APH PruCan Dirty Dancer
by DarkmoonSigel
Summary: FOR THE LOVE OF PASTA...first published on DA PruCan AU Stripper Prussia/Gilbert x Businessman Canada/Matthew Rated M cause you can't write smut without it. Yaoi warning. Yaoi equal gay, boy on boy, all hot dog and no hamburgers. Don't like, don't read, don't flame.
1. Chapter 1

APH PruCan Dirty Dancer 1

Two young blondes approached the Pink Pony, one of the most prolific strip clubs of the city. The establishment was famed for its exotic dancers, talented specimens of rare and exceptional beauty that could cater to any taste that was legal and some that were barely so to any man, woman, or anyone in between with enough cash in hand. Headliners and acts for this den of sin came from all over the world and took pride in its diversity.

The King of Roses was from the smoky cabarets of Paris. He would let some lucky patron pluck the last rose from his apparel(or lack there of) with a soft smile and a lingering sigh as he sang to the rest in husky French.

The Tomato Fairy whose act consisted of eating the scarlet fruit lavishly slow so that the juices flowed down his tanned skin in sticky rivulets. It was a bidding war to see who got to lick it off of his abs, throat, and hands. He would only let a certain one taste the tangy sweetness of his mouth.

Fire and Ice, an unique act of undress and magic combined, executed by two mysterious Nordic brothers who had glittering eyes of cool tanzanite and uncut sapphire and cold pale hands that could be deliciously cruel upon request.

From the Orient, the Dragon delighted his audience with feats of incredible balance upon poles and tight wire alike. He intrigued them further with his flowing bright robes that parted at the most interesting time to reveal golden flesh, his long blue black hair that flowed like silk down his lean back, and his androgynous looks that made all wonder which gender the dancer actually belonged to.

A trip to the Pink Pony promised a night of intense pleasure, glitter that would not wash off, and addictive regret. It was where lonely people went to feel loved in any way they wanted for a price. Love's not cheap here and is charged for by the hour.

Besides the main attraction of dancers who would take it all off for a price, the Pink Pony had several dance floors, lots of bars, a pool, and even a hotel connected to it where one could meet the love of their life or their love of the moment for an hour or more.

Anything was possible here. All the owner asked was that patrons to keep an open mind and wallet.  
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Well? What do you think, Mattie?", said one of the blondes as he gazed over at the club fondly. He was tall and athletically built, garbed in an expensive dark blue suit that was accented with a bright red tie, the silk highlighting his azure eyes so they gleamed with intense color and made his honey blonde hair sparkle.

His companion and obvious twin looked less than impressed with the whole affair if his expression of miffed distain was any true indication of his inner feelings. "It's a strip club, Al. That has got to be the tackiest shade of pink I have ever seen.", Matthew who was also known as Mattie but only by his brother who had to make up a nickname for anyone he ever met in life. Matthew was paler than Alfred who kept a perpetual tan year round and had eyes that were more shaded an indecisive cool color that lay somewhere between blue and purple. He also had longer hair that just brushed the tops of his shoulders and his blonde was more strawberry than honey with a stubborn curl in the front instead of an equally stubborn cowlick that Alfred was sporting. Matthew was Alfred's gym buddy so the tall man was muscular as well but with leaner muscles. Matthew didn't enjoy weight lifting as much as Alfred, focusing more on cardio and hockey.

"I know. Doesn't it just pop?", Al or more fully Alfred, said giver of nicknames who also went by Alfie, Freddie, and 'that fucking guy over there!'. He looked far too pleased with himself for some reason and it was making Matthew nervous…..very nervous, like 'where is my pants nervous and by the way, how did I get here?' nervous.

"It's making my eyes bleed and it may or may not have given me stigmata.", Matthew said, giving Alfred a half lidded look of exasperation, not just at the color choice of the club. He had been looking forward to a quiet evening of number crunching, nice safe totally predictable number crunching.

Boring? Yes.

Effective for inducing sleep out of sheer boredom? Very much so.

Life of the party he was not and Matthew had come to accept this. After long years of practice, wallflower was a comfortable place for him to be. It involved quietly holding up an expanse of drywall and/or furniture, making awkward conversation with strangers, and eventually driving drunk people, who would not remember his name and/or existence, home. Alfred seemed quite intent on ruining Matthew's perceptions on this life though for some reason. "Al….Why are we here, eh?", Matthew tried once again to find out what his twin intended for them to do this evening. Alfred had been strangely quiet on the matter. Matthew found himself unnerved by it and wishing he was dressed a little better for a night out on the town. Alfred had basically kidnapped him from their apartment, so Matthew was stuck wearing comfortable jeans that had once been black in a former life, dark Sketchers, and an un-tucked bright red dress shirt he hadn't managed to relieve himself of from work.

"Mattie, Mattie, Mattie…..", Alfred chanted, shaking his head in a sad, slow motion that made Matthew want to smack him, "The answer is so simple…..".

Alfred trailed off, leaving Matthew to hang off of the period. "And?", Matthew sighed when it was clear Alfred wasn't going to continue without some sort of prompt.

"To see some dick, dumbass. It's a strip club.", Alfred told him bluntly, flashing his uncomfortable twin a wide grin full of perfect white teeth. The answer effectively staggered the other into a complete stop, fingers already working over his cell to call a cab.

"Fooking hell, I'm going home.", Matthew bit out, attempting to leave as he willed someone to answer his call. He found his escape blocked by a wall of stubborn American and his cell phone stolen.

"Ahhhhh! C'mon! This place is great. Just give it a chance! We don't have to watch the strippers. We can go hit the dance floor.", Alfred tried for diplomacy. When bargaining failed in changing Matthew's resolute expression, Alfred went straight for mental blackmail. "Please!", Alfred whined in what he would claim later was a very manly way, giving Matthew big, glassy puppy dog eyes of begging. It was obscene in its cuteness but effective.

"Fine. Whatever. Let's just get this over with.", Matthew snapped as his will crumbled much too quickly for his own liking. He blamed over exposure and proximity to Alfred for this as he stomped up to the glittering entrance, cursing under his breath in long streams of French. Alfred didn't help matters by fist pumping his victory, running to keep up with the sullen Canadian.

"Bro, this is gonna be one hell of a night!", Alfred laughed, "Say it with me now-Epic."

"Shut the hell up and pay the door fee, hoser."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"How does it look? Are the wankers gagging for it yet?", a bored and obviously English tone asked. It was voiced by a slim stripper, too busy layering thick kohl around his large emerald eyes to give a fuck about anything else. A black clove cigarette hung off of his pert lips already shaded a very fuckable hue of red. The splash of lip color and the richness of the eye liner accented the milky pallor of his skin and the flawless perfection of it. The stripper ran darkly polished fingertips through his short hair, pale blonde the shade of spun Inca gold and forever in the style of bed head. He was one half of the most popular act at the Pink Pony, his stage name Absinthe which was much more alluring and mysterious than Arthur. The former rolled off of the tongue with a lustful promise. The latter made you think of a mousy librarian or dusty legend. Small wonder to which of the two he preferred to use on stage.

Jägerbomb, the other half of the act, closed the door to their dressing room behind him with a shrug, taking a drag from his own poison of choice, menthol. "Definitely less than awesome. We might actually have to work tonight.", the silver haired man yawned as he took a moment to stretch. Pulling something on stage was not an option. It was the same reason he used Jägerbomb instead of his real name of Gilbert. It just wasn't sexy.

Gilbert and Arthur only had to share a room with each other and for the most part if worked out for them. It was their space with enough area for both of their makeup tables, multiple racks of costumes, a mini fridge full of beers from various regions of Germany and the UK, and even a couch to pass out on in-between sets.

"Some of our regulars are here. That Austrian prick for me and that Japanese perv for you.", Gilbert said as he applied a rich magenta eyeliner to his lids, several shades darker than his own unique eye color. He found the contrast made his crimson orbs look sharper.

"Bugger.", Arthur wrinkled his nose. Honda was quiet and polite on the outside, but inwardly, his carnal tastes ran in oddly depraved directions.

"Kesesese. Ja, He'll do that to.", Gilbert snickered, giving his dance partner the once over. The blonde was lean with fluid muscles, compact and firm as a curled whip. As flexible as one too. Arthur also had a cool demeanor and an acid wit he wasn't afraid to use that drove men and women desperately wild not only for his attention but his approval as well. Couple that with delicate good looks that would make an angel sigh in want and a strong English accent used like a weapon, he was a cool assassin of hearts and heads, and the stage was Arthur's killing ground. Even now, he rolled his eyes with a dry sniff.

"I'm a performer.", Arthur said hotly with an eloquent hand gesture that even royalty would be proud to use.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let's hear you say that when the rent's due.", Gilbert chuckled darkly, poking at one of the Englishman's sore spots with deliberate intent. He was rewarded for his efforts by an instant flush of skin.

"Do you have to keep reminding me about that?! I was drunk. He got lucky. End of story.", Arthur growled out through clenched teeth.

"You still can't eat calamari because of it.", Gilbert pressed with a toothy smirk, enjoying his moment as Arthur's pallor took on a certain green tint whenever anything with tentacles was mentioned in his presence. Gilbert had only heard bits and pieces of the story but it was enough to make him avoid the Japanese businessman. Gilbert took mercy on his coworker, lighting a pair of cigarettes to hand one of them off to Arthur who didn't even complain it wasn't one of his precious cloves.

Gilbert took the moment of silence to study his own reflection. He was taller of the two, leaner as well. He had never been able to keep enough meat on his bones, his corded muscles standing out all the more for it. Gilbert was also scarred from head to toe, random silver lines running over his body. He had only himself to blame for them, having gotten into more than a few fights.

Other than the scars, his skin was colorless, the white of winter's breathe. It was something that he was used to but seemed to fascinate other people. The lack of color made his eyes all the more striking though. Unlike other albinos, his eyes were deep red instead of pink or purple. The condition left him with silver hair as well, but it was thankfully thick considering the rest of his body lacked any.

Not that he minded. Gilbert had watched Arthur struggle with his overly bushy eyebrows for years. The facial hair growths had resisted everything from waxing and threading to tweezing with an almost tangible malice toward their frustrated owner. Gilbert had suggested once that Arthur just shave them off and be done with them. Arthur had staunchly refused, answering back in a near frightened tone that they might grow back in thicker just to spite him. Gilbert felt an odd stab of pity for his partner and gave into it. "Your boy's here too.", he said in way of distraction.

"Which one?", Arthur raised an eyebrow back though his tone was a bit hopeful. Gilbert grinned, knowing the Englishman really wanted only one answer to that question.

"You know, the new one you've been laying it on thick with lately. The blonde with the glasses and the permanently stupid look on his face.", Gilbert answered straight out, deciding not to tease too much for once.

"Really?", Arthur let out breathlessly, biting his lip before he realized what he was doing. He turned his head away to hide the beginnings of a blush. Gilbert snickered loudly to let Arthur know he had already spotted it.

"And it looks like he brought a friend.", Gilbert continued, giving his own appearance the once over before getting up. They really needed to start getting dressed for their next show.

"That's new…..", Arthur mused, not sure if he liked the idea of company with his Alfred.

"So what are you doing tonight?", Gilbert asked, rustling through their costumes, most of which coordinated with each other. Gilbert worked mainly with Arthur, the two dancers so familiar with one another they could learn and execute any new routine with each other within minutes to perfection. Occasionally though for special events, Gilbert would join two other notorious club dancers, the Rose King and the Tomato Fairy, to make the Bad Touch Trio. Those shows were always standing room only, and were near orgy in form and infamously erogenous in reputation.

Gilbert flicked through the garbs of leather, lace, and sequin with a jaded eye, "Pirate again?". He really had no preference. As far as Gilbert was concerned, it all came off in the end so what did it matter?

"Oh bloody hell, no.", Arthur shuddered, "I was thinking bobby or…"

"A what? Speak English, Arschloch.", Gilbert interrupted.

"A cop.", Arthur rolled his eyes, "Or an angel."

Gilbert grimaced at the last suggestion. Arthur got into some pretty weird moods when it came down to his costumes. He personally could not pull off the whole 'ethereal' look. As far as he was concerned, Gilbert thought he looked ghostlike enough. "Cop it is then. Pervs love leather.", Gilbert said as he pulled out the proper attire, tossing as his coworker. "I'll shadow you with something confined looking. Do you wanna team the floor?".

"50/50?", Arthur pursed his lips, slipping into a white dress shirt to lace a leather corset vest over it. Thin crowds meant less money even with some regulars in the mix. By pooling their tips, they could make a hell of a lot more together than separately.

"Just the stage cash. Private dances are in pocket.", Gilbert compromised, "Fishnets or chaps?".

"Deal.", Arthur nodded, "Surprise me."


	2. Chapter 2

APH PruCan Dirty Dancer 2

Matthew glared down at his drink, willing the Canadian Club and Coke to demise a painful death. He was sitting at a tiny round table in a very uncomfortable chair with no arms in front of a low stage. The stage's border was filled with clear poles and was badly lit at the moment but alight enough to show the mass amount of glitter embedded into the dark floorboards of it. A lost galaxy of multi colored stars was in that floor Matthew mused. A sharp poke to the lower part of his ribs reminded the Canadian that his brother was talking and had apparently asked him a question.

"I thought you said that we could skip the strippers.", Matthew answered moodily, whether that was the right answer or not to the original enquiry(it wasn't-Alfred had asked Matthew if he remembered where they had parked the car).

"I lied.", Alfred chuckled, managing somehow to look comfortable as he leaned back in the stiffed backed chair with no natural place to rest his arms. It resulted in him crossing them over his chest, completing the very picture of casual sexy smugness. Matthew smothered his wave of irritation at Alfred with a sip from his drink which was much too strong for his taste. The barman, some tall German guy with platinum hair, hoarfrost blue eyes, and an etched in frown, was a little too intimating for Matthew to go and complain about it though.

"Hoser.", Matthew muttered, taking out his drink and location irritation upon his closet company.

Alfred just grinned back, the expression making him look cocky and way too self assured for anyone else's good. "Shut up and enjoy the show, Canuck. You know you can't get this kind of shit up in the land of moose and beaver.", Alfred laughed.

"Yes, we Canadians are as pure as the driven snow and know nothing of the wondrous mysteries found in these far off places you call strip clubs and the state of undress known as nudity.", Matthew rolled his eyes with a snort of disgust.

"Shhhhhhh!", Alfred shushed overly loud, pointing to the stage as the lights darkened completely to cast a sharp spotlight onto the glittering curtain. A man with bluntly cut, short blonde hair and large luminous green eyes parted the hot pink material with barely a ripple of fabric which was impressive considering he was wearing platform heels high enough to bungee off of. The man also was wearing a shade of pink that made Matthew wonder if he was responsible for the eye bleeding color out front. Matthew found himself bothered more by that concept than the fact the blonde was in full drag and wearing enough glitter to glibly cause random seizures in other people.

"Like ok, simmer the fuck down! It's the moment you all have been totally waiting for! Holly and Ivy! Fa-la-la-la-la bitches!"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO  
Meanwhile off stage….  
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO  
The two dancers froze, partially in surprise but mostly in horror.

"Holly and Ivy?", Gilbert glared up at the ceiling, "Fuck, I hate the holidays."

"Do correct me if I misheard but is our illustrious leader once again making up stage names for us?", Arthur spat out through clenched teeth, trying desperately to focus on his breathing and suppress a violent rage of hurty pain upon certain blonde men in drag.

"Got it in one…..Ivy.", Gilbert rolled his shoulders and the momentary stress away. Toris( the floor manager, Felik's Lithuanian boyfriend, and the Pink Pony's rock of stability) was already on the overhead speakers correcting Feliks' mis-announcement. The Polish club owner had odd and very random whims- cross dressing, renaming the club's dancers, and constantly re-painting the club's exterior various shades of neon pink were just a few of them. It was a running theory that the paint fumes had destroyed Feliks' last few lingering brain cells a long time ago.

"Bugger, onward and upward I guess. Time to slap some flesh and tickle some fancies.", Arthur sighed, slipping into his persona with his next step. Gilbert always liked to watch this transition. The Englishman's posture grew straighter as his shoulders went back and his slender back arched ever so slightly to rock seductively with every step. His hips started to roll into a strut, his body swaying from it as his steps went toe heel, toe heel. Leather squeaked subtly and sighed over a lissome form as the click of boot heel tapped out a heady staccato.

The smirk that grew on Arthur's face was the most eye catching thing about the dancer though. It was a crooked grin that showed a flash of sharp teeth. It promised pleasure with pain, a kiss that would always end with the taste of crimson metallic, and the bite of nails across sweat slick flesh.

As Arthur parted the curtain, flinging back the material with a well practiced flick of wrists, all Gilbert could think was that tonight was going to one to remember as Absinthe took the stage like the moon taking hold of the night.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Matthew found himself looking around the room for no particular reason other than boredom mixed with a dash of curiosity. He had never been to a strip club before. This one was a lot cleaner than he would have ever imagined. He was surprised to see so many well dressed and seemingly well off men seated around the stage. Matthew wasn't sure how he felt about that.

The music started out low and deep, the bass acting as the room's feral heartbeat, patrons leaning forward in their seat with hungry looks on their faces like vultures waiting for that ill fated, manic squirrel to cross the street. Matthew recognized the music as "Cockney Thug" by the Rusko the Casper remix as the room darkened further to a near pitch blackness. A spotlight hit the curtain, a blade of pure eye burning white. A blonde appeared in it, a vision dressed in shiny leather that the light seemed to grip, clinging at him with an almost desperation as the dancer known as Absinthe started to move. That was about that time Matthew came to have a dire realization.

**When your spirit is floating down that tunnel, towards the light  
You know what's behind the light?  
It's not God, it's me!  
And I'm gonna kick your poncey soul  
All the way back down the tunnel 'till you choke on your own fucked up ribs!  
Now...  
Wake the fuck up!**

"You took me to see a male stripper?!", Matthew's face met the DARK comfort of his palms.

"Time to come out of your closet. Consider this your eviction notice. You're welcome, bro.", Alfred shrugged. Matthew lifted his head up to study his twin openly. He could already tell that Alfred was not really paying him any attention, his focus and big blue eyes solely on the dancer making his way across the stage with a slinky sort of walk. Any further argument about his sexual orientation would be a lost cause….and kinda weird to discuss considering their current location at the moment. Matthew doubted that even a cheeseburger would distract Alfred at this point in time, much less his personal indecision about bed partners. The fact that Matthew was bi seemed to be a conundrum wrapped in a mystery to Alfred. Matthew wasn't sure why.

Matthew sighed, letting the thought go, watching as Absinthe sank slowly down into a painful looking split and leaned his body forward, smooth and effortless as any trained ballerina. Matthew wasn't sure if he should applaud the man for his flexibility or not. At this level, it look Matthew a moment to realize that the dancer was going for a cop look if the handcuffs and hat were any indication. The fish nets were throwing Matthew off though.

The stripper spun out of the split fluidly to strike a complicated pose that balanced him on the spikes of his heeled boots and fingertips as he arched his slender back, showing off the smooth lines of his body and revealing the curve of his milky throat fully to his audience. It should have made him appear submissive but all Matthew was getting from Absinthe was domination with a side slap of leather.

While he appreciated the theatrics, Matthew found himself growing bored with it. He tensed his jaw to keep from yawning as he glanced over at Alfred. His brother sat riveted, his jaw hanging slightly open at the spectacle on stage. Matthew rolled his eyes as he looked away. It wouldn't surprise him one bit if Alfred started drooling.

The music switched smoothly enough, the new song was just as dark and dirty as the previous one. "Woke Up This Morning" came in low and deep as another dancer came onto the stage.

***She said-You're one in a million.  
You've got to burn to shine.  
But you were born under a bad sign  
With a blue moon in your eyes***

Matthew barely paid him any attention, only taking a moment long enough to wince at the new stripper's name. Someone thought they were being terribly clever with Jägerbomb. All it made Matthew think of was some rough nights in college and many fervent prayers and desperate promises to the gods of porcelain.

Meanwhile, the stripper with delusions of law enforcement serpentine his way through the numerous poles to start dancing right in front of Alfred as if he were the only one in the room.

In a way, Matthew was grateful. He wanted a good look at the man who had caught his brother's ADD attention span so fully. The man was pretty enough Matthew assessed, with some of the greenest eyes the Canadian had ever seen, a delicate face with excellent bone structure, and flawless skin that Matthew could comfortably call alabaster and not feel weird doing so. He just really wasn't his type, whoever that was. Matthew wasn't even sure anymore. He didn't know if he was just picky or overly cautious.

One look at Alfred told him that his twin was totally enamored with the man before him, his eyes drinking in every nuance of the stripper's form and movement. Matthew found himself biting his lip harshly enough to taste copper in response. He had seen the look before but not often.

Oh shit. Alfred was in love with a stripper.

Knowing his brother as he did, Matthew wondered if Alfred even realized it. The American had the unfortunate habit of ignoring the elephant in the room until the proverbial shit was up to his eyeballs. Matthew's eyes widened as Alfred produced a $20 from the tips of his fingers almost like a magic trick. His smirking audience approved, Absinthe answering with a wink and the removal of his gloves, the leather hitting the stage with a soft sound. A whistle from off to the side drew all of their attentions though. A petite Asian man with an intense look waved two more bills than Alfred had currently in hand. The stripper shrugged as he changed directions smoothly toward the bigger cash, taking off his corseted vest as he went, but gave Alfred a backward pouty look of regret as he did so.

Alfred growled, slamming his hand on the stage to cut off the dancer's retreat with the help of some more dead presidents. Matthew sunk lower in his seat as he watched Alfred commence in a bidding war with the Asian businessman which Alfred finally won after a flurry of cash and some interesting hand gestures. The stripper proclaimed him victor by leaning off his pole one-handed at a break neck angle to slip off his shoes and fishnets one by one overly slow. His police hat was removed as well and placed upon Alfred's head.

"Hold on to that for me, love. Be back in a tick.", Absinthe purred, licking his lips. Matthew rolled his eyes as he allowed himself to slap his forehead with an open palm. Mystery solved. The stripper was English. No wonder Alfred's head was in such a tail spin. He had always had a thing for British accents.

Absinthe gracefully walked back over the side of the stage to collect his money, piling it by the curtain's entrance as the stripper known as Jägerbomb worked his own brand of magic. The man's back was to the audience with his long arms wrapped around his lean torso in a manner that let anyone looking know that he was triple jointed and wasn't afraid to use it. Matthew studied the series of slim leather straps and buckles that seemed to solely make up the dancer's outfit. The bit of skin that showed through were the palest Matthew had ever seen. He wondered briefly if it were the lighting or the performer's makeup.

Matthew didn't get to dwell upon it. The English stripper was coming back toward them, his white dress shirt open now, the edges of it fluttering as he moved. It showed off glimpses of corded muscle, all lean and compact against a wiry frame. Matthew watched as Absinthe climbed down off of the stage more gracefully than Matthew would have ever thought possible considering the break neck, knee high boots he was wearing. It was like the man had no bones in his body, the movement was so smooth. His fluidity continued as the dancer sank into Alfred's lap, fitting there as if he were made for it to dig long thin fingers into Alfred's honey hair, twisting it to a point that it made Matthew wince. Alfred looked caught between elation and euphoria though so Matthew bit back most of his protective responses in time.

"I thought it was all 'no contact'.", Matthew allowed himself to mutter dryly. That earned him a glare from Alfred and a look of surprise from the stripper who didn't appear to realize Matthew had even been there until now. "Apparently my wallflower status has just been renewed and updated. Ignored by a stripper has got be on some new level.", Matthew thought to himself ruefully.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"I make exceptions. Alfred is one of them.", Arthur purred, recovering nicely from his shock. He wasn't like him to ignore a patron of the club even if they were not flashing cash yet. It was one of the reason that he was one of the top acts at the Pink Pony. He had a talent for bleeding suckers dry, even the cheap ones.

The newcomer eyeing him was not one of Arthur's willing victims though. He looked like Alfred enough to scream 'twin', but his gaze was far sharper and much more intent behind those silver framed glasses than Alfred's own beguiled azure blue. Arthur vaguely remembered Alfred mentioning something about having a brother. Markus? Maddie? For the life of him, Arthur couldn't remember what the name was though which was unlike him. Remembering names was important to his profession. Whatever his name was, the other blonde's body language was set in a guarded manner with his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his broad shoulders slightly hunched. He didn't look pleased in the slightest with his surroundings or present company.

Arthur refrained from grinding on Alfred like he normally would have done, settling on just stroking Alfred's face, hair, and torso with light, lingering touches in an attempt to make the other man more comfortable. Alfred had become one of his regulars and he wanted to keep him. Protective relatives could be the salt in the tea and the end of any future engagements with Alfred.

That was not an option, at least not anymore. Arthur had always prided himself on his indifference for his cliental, keeping all interactions purely profession. That was until he met Alfred. The American's appearance in Arthur's once orderly life had changed everything. Arthur was even toying with the idea of sleeping with him. Contrary to popular belief, not all strippers were whores. Arthur danced solely for the money, not that he wasn't offered to do other things besides strutting his stuff. He had standards. A handsome and very rich American just happen to be one of them.

"Can I kiss you?", Alfred asked, his breathes coming out in small, wet pants. He ran his hands up and down Arthur's lithe form, the appendages restless in their search for a handhold.

"Forehead, cheek, or hand. Nowhere else, poppet.", Arthur told him, keeping his tone soft yet firm. Another one of his rules. No kissing on the mouth. It was too intimate for Arthur's tastes and allowed him to keep a certain amount of control over his clients. Alfred was making him want to break that rule though so very badly though.

"I bet you taste sweet.", Alfred said sadly, his lips parting in yearning as he brought Arthur's hands up to his face, rubbing his cheeks against Arthur's soft palms, letting his lips run across the Englishman's life lines.

His own breathe catching despite himself, Arthur wiggled his hands free so that he could play with the hair on the back of Alfred's neck, making the American shiver in return. "You'll never know.", Arthur teased, leaning in to trace the tip of his tongue along the American's jaw line. He promised himself to find out later the flavor of Alfred's tongue and teeth. Rules were made to be broken and Arthur had been dying put this carnal mystery to bed.

Arthur grinned wide at Alfred's needy whimpering as he pressed silent promises into Alfred's skin with his skilled lips.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Fed up and feeling very much like a third wheel, Matthew rolled his eyes at the stripper's antics and his brother's ridiculous behavior as he got up to leave. As he rose to his feet "Bad Things" by Jace Everett began to play. It was noteworthy because the lyrics were burned into his brain.

***When you came in the air went out  
And every shadow filled up with doubt  
I don't know who you think you are  
But before the night is through  
I wanna do bad things with you***

Enraged crimson eyes glittered riotously as Matthew locking gazes with the other dancer on stage. Matthew realized immediately that Jägerbomb appeared to be angry with him for standing up. Matthew sat back down wide eyed, watching the fierce dancer stalk across the stage toward him, his every movement predatory and sharp. Matthew could not make himself look away from his impending doom whose pale form was wearing considerably less now. Many of the straps had been removed to reveal more winter skin marked with silvery scar lines. The etchings did nothing to detract from the albino's appearance though. If anything, it sharpened it, making the man look surreal in his ice and shadow beauty, and powerful in his sinuous movements.

The end of a riding crop was placed under Matthew's chin, the cool leather pressed to it firmly to tilt Matthew's chin from side to side and then up. "Where the hell do you think you are going?", the pallid hunter growled out. He crouched down at the edge of the stage to glare heatedly down at Matthew. The tip of the crop tapped out a warning on Matthew's cheek if he didn't answer soon enough for the stripper's liking.

His eyes never leaving the man dressed in hanging strips of leather like some heathen dominatrix god, Matthew found himself sinking further into his uncomfortable chair. He was finding it very hard to breathe at the moment. This close to Jägerbomb, Matthew could take in even greater detail than before. The pale man's facial features were sharply defined much like a fox's would be, his nose straight, and his lips thin yet distinct. Matthew wanted to touch the cupid's bow of it and trace the outline of his lips to see if they would redden under his insistent touch. He was thinking the same thing about the albino's nipple, the dancer's costume shredded enough to reveal a colorless areola the barest shade of pink. Matthew's eyes flitted between the two areas of interest, his tongue touching his bottom lip.

The stripper noticed immediately where he was looking, Matthew realized to his sudden humiliation as his treacherous brain shut down on him, leaving Matthew in a mental lurch. It didn't help matters either when a toothy smirk replaced the pale man's glare. Matthew blushed hotly in return but try as he might though, Matthew couldn't look away. The riding crop was flung over shoulder as Jägerbomb stood up abruptly so that the dancer could show off how flexible he was, bending and twisting around and though poles effortlessly.

Matthew breathed a sigh of relief, the stale air released telling him he had been holding his breathe. His reprieve from any further embarrassment was premature, Jägerbomb weaving his way back to finally come to a full stop in front of Matthew again.

"C'mon Birdie, you got to pay, if you want to play.", Jägerbomb chided. It took a second for Matthew to register that the stripper was talking to him.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The cute blonde looked up at him in surprise, his amazing eyes going even wider than before. Gilbert was enjoying the view. He had never seen that shade of tanzanite in an iris before, didn't even think it was possible without the aid of contacts. It didn't hurt anything either that Alfred's brother was good looking, despite his resemblance to the American. The twin before him was paler, his body a bit leaner though obviously still muscular, and his hair longer, more silky in texture. A lone wayward curl hung defiantly off of his forehead as well. Gilbert longed to pull at it, the twisted cluster of follicles practically begging for his attention.

"I'll let you take off a strap of your choosing.", Gilbert told him as he twisted his body expertly to hang upside down in front of his prey by only using his ankles and feet for leverage in an awesome display of balance and strength. It hurt like hell, but it looked amazing and was well worth the effort to impress. To Gilbert's chagrin, it was a wasted maneuver though. The blonde only reddened more at the suggestion, looking away from him in his discomfort.

Gilbert gritted his teeth as he shifted into a more comfortable position, righting himself as he looped his leg around the pole while using the other to angle his body out so that he could loom over the shrinking blonde.

"I'll let you do one for free.", Gilbert upped the ante. His guy was screaming 'new meat'. With the right motivation and reward, 'new meat' could become a profitable 'meal ticket'. Gilbert ignored the dark haired man trying to get his attention from off to the side. He was tired of the prissy Austrian anyway. Roderich demanded too much attention with not enough payout, the stingy non tipping bastard. Gilbert wanted someone different for his amusement and this blonde looked like he could fit the bill nicely if he could be convinced to come out of his shell and loosen up.

"I don't bite…..unless you want me to.", Gilbert said with a swipe of tongue over his lips. Just to be showy and that he could, Gilbert flipped backward off of the pole to land beside the blonde's chair. The blonde jumped in his seat, gripping the bottom of it with white knuckles. "He looks more scared than turned on.", Gilbert thought, reflecting further that not many people could look that uncomfortable and still look that cute all at the same time. It just made Gilbert want to eat him up more.

"Shouldn't you be working the crowd, braggart?", came a sharp reminder clothed in an English accent. Gilbert threw his dance partner a glare over his shoulder. Arthur returned the look, bodily curled around Alfred which was against all sorts of rules but no one was going to argue with Arthur about his American and work semantics.

"Yeah, cause you're shaking your ass real hardcore up there. You want some tea while you're down here, your highness? Maybe a fucking crumpet?", Gilbert snapped back good naturedly, giving the Englishman a pointed look. Alfred would stay no matter what but other patrons wouldn't without a show. If the other blonde was as good as his American twin, it would be well worth Gilbert's time to stay down here and work on him for a bit. Thanks to their long work relation, Arthur got it all in one look.

"Point. Later, love.", Arthur untangled himself from Alfred, blowing him a kiss as he started to move away. Alfred looked devastatingly bereft of his company, catching one of the Englishman's hand to keep him from leaving.

"B-but….", Alfred stammered. A finger was pressed to his lips, melting him from the inside from the light touch alone.

"Hush. Keep my hat and give me a reason to come find you when I am done, my sweet.", Arthur purred throatily, freeing his hand with a quick twist and a wink.

Gilbert barely managed to keep himself from rolling his eyes as he turned his attentions back to the blonde trapped in his seat. He ran his hands over hunched shoulders in an attempt to relax their stiff posture. The skin beneath his touch trembled in response. Gilbert wasn't sure if it was from extreme discomfort or tremendous want though, the blonde's blank expression indiscernible.

Mentally shrugging, Gilbert pressed further. Nothing chanced, nothing gained after all. "So….which one?", Gilbert asked.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Maple!", Matthew squeaked, cursing far more colorful words inside his own head at himself. He needed to calm down and mentally regroup. Matthew also warily realized that he could never make fun of Alfred's accent fetish again. Apparently, his own was for German.

"Am I going too fast for you, birdie?", the pale man asked in a low, deep tone that made small muscles Matthew didn't even know he had in his lower abdomen tighten quick and painful. Yup, German accents was one of his buttons, the gruffly spoken blocky words doing embarrassing things to his body and libido. Matthew realized after a long moment in between thinking about this and stifling his growing hard on, that he had been asked a question of some sort. He nodded, hoping it was the right answer.

"That's fine. I'll just go slower.", the dancer smirked. The expression worked well for him, Matthew observed despairingly. "Which. Strap. Do. You. Want?".

"You're not going to leave me alone until I pick one, eh?", Matthew asked, his voice marked with misery. The tone did nothing to dissuade the stripper in the slightest. In fact, it seemed to make him move even closer to Matthew who broke out into a cold sweat.

"Kesesese.", the pale man laughed oddly, "Nein. Not a chance. I don't give out freebies often."

Matthew gritted his teeth as he studied the remaining pieces of the costume. There were still a lot of safe straps remaining-one across the stomach, another across the back, and several around the legs. There was one though that caught Matthew's eye. It was an odd looking strap that looked like it looped from the dancer's crotch and back behind his legs. It was probably the last one that was taken off in the stripper's act after all the others. If he were to take it off now, Jägerbomb's act would shortened or even ruined. If Matthew considered himself really lucky, it would also mean that this strange crimson eyed man would go away and stop making him feel so damn uncomfortable and awkward. That or the risqué choice of straps would appease the stripper and he would finally go off and entertain someone else who really wanted his services.

It wasn't like Matthew wanted them or anything….or was dieing to see what was under the rest of the leather…No, not at all….although it was nice to be seen for once but that was a stupid thought because it was the man's job. Absinthe hadn't bothered with him though, not that Matthew wanted him to. Alfred would have his balls if he showed any interest in his new infatuation. Oh Maple, how long had he been staring off into space…..

"Fine. I chose this one!", Matthew said, quickly grabbing for it before he could be warned or fended off. To his surprise, the strap had a very familiar texture to it and was surprisingly warm. It also caused the stripper to suddenly moan, growling out something in German. Matthew's hand spasmed in surprise and growing realization, unable to let go.

"That was a good pick.", the stripper rasped out breathily, "But it's not a strap.". Matthew broke out into a cold sweat, the meat in his hand hardening in response to his tightening grip, his finger clenching down despite the rest of him frozen in shock. The other man's regions were responding to him and all Matthew could think about was how heavy and thick it felt in his hand and how he would need both to caress its impressive length.

A harsh wolf whistle broke the moment, Alfred leaning in for a look-see. "Nice, bro. Way to get into the swing of things.", Alfred laughed, brotherly punching the Canadian in the shoulder. Matthew didn't know if he wanted to die of embarrassment or vomit or both. Really though, what was the etiquette in this sort of situation?

Apparently it was to jump up and out of your seat while screaming loudly which is the exact course of action Matthew choose to do. "I'm sorry!", Matthew wailed, running for the first emergency exit he could find. He hit with his shoulder and kept on going, ignoring the calls from his brother and all noises of surprise, destruction, and other alarms that sounded around him in his wake.

Matthew practically threw himself at the first taxi he could find, making the yellow vehicle stop with a screech of brakes. The angry driver became all smiles as a hundred and a drivers license was shoved into his face.

"Take me home please." was all Matthew could manage to say as he curled up in the back seat. The cabby was mercifully quiet on the ride home leaving Matthew to brood upon his humiliation in relative silence.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Scheiße. Was it something I said?", Gilbert said in wonder, the path of destruction made by the retreating Canadian still being cleaned up by the staff. A quick glance over at his brother told him that Ludwig was not happy about remaking all those drinks or that Feliciano had gotten knocked over. The Italian was capable enough to spill drinks on his own, he certainly didn't need any more help in that area.

Alfred's brother had somehow managed to knock over several tables and servers in his retreat from him. He had also opened an emergency exit, sounding an alarm and effectively ruining several people's evening and endings. Alfred was already working his magic and wallet with Toris, paying for the damages. Despite being an idiot(at least in Gilbert's opinion) the American was a slick talker and generally very well liked. Feliks had already forgiven him, the short blonde hanging off of Alfred's arm. Gilbert snickered, risking a look over at Arthur who appeared to be contemplating violent homicide against their Polish boss.

"If his hands go any lower….", Arthur growled out through clenched teeth, his thin fingers curling into tight fists.

"You'll what? Drown Feliks in sparkly lube?", Gilbert suggested, shrugging into his robe as he tossed another to Arthur. Their set was over for tonight thanks to Alfred's brother and his warpath. Strangely enough, Gilbert didn't feel too upset about it.

"Humph. Be too good a death for the bint.", Arthur sniffed, his nose pompously going up in the air for more reasons than one. Alfred had already extricated himself from Feliks with minimal glitter coverage and was coming toward them with a mixed expression, torn between eye fucking Arthur and tearing Gilbert a new asshole.

"Dude! What the hell did you say to Mattie!? He is literally the most chill guy I know.", Alfred asked the albino pointblank. It was one of the few things Gilbert liked about the American. He didn't dick around with mind games or fake politeness. "Did you tell him maple syrup sucks or that hockey isn't a real sport?". On the other hand, Alfred thought he was a comedic genius…

"I don't get it.", Arthur admitted flatly as Alfred started to laugh a little too much at his own joke(?).

"Why is that funny?", Gilbert ventured warily. The American's reasoning never made much sense to him.

Alfred blinked in surprise at the two stripper's dead stares. "Because he's Canadian…..you know beaver, moose, flapping heads….no? Nothing? Never mind."

"Who Mattie?", Gilbert asked, trying to get the conversation back on track after a moment of pointed awkward silence.

"Um, duh. My brother aka the guy who went screaming out of here like a bat out of hell. That guy.", Alfred rolled his eyes expansively, "His name is Matthew. I'm the only one who gets to call my Canuck Mattie."

"But I thought you were American. You're fat enough.", Gilbert snickered, making a low blow. Arthur glared over at him even as Alfred started to spaz defensively.

"Fuck you, dude. Not cool. I'm not fat!", Alfred pouted, "And I am American, 100% fuck you very much and proud of it. Matthew's the Canadian."

"How the hell does that work?", Gilbert huffed, taking a moment to light a cigarette, just because it irritated Alfred.

"The usual. Divorce. Immigration. Blah, blah, blah.", Alfred waved his hand dismissively, "Seriously though, what did you say to him? I will have to hurt you did anything to my lil bro."

"Aren't you two numb nuts twins?", Gilbert countered, raising a slim silver eyebrow.

"I'm older by two minutes and it totally counts. Quit changing the subject and spill already.", Alfred snapped.

"Hey Arschloch, he's the one who grabbed my dick, not the other way around.", Gilbert growled back, moving up to stand toe to toe with Alfred. It was wasted effort on his part though, Alfred's countenance going into a more thoughtful pose.

"Oh yeah…I forgot about that. I wonder why he did that….", Alfred mused, seemingly unaware of the irate stripper in front of him going for his arm with a lit cigarette. Gilbert was stopped from completing his vengeance by Arthur who was quite fed up with the entire conversation, mostly because it was drawing Alfred's attention away from him, the Englishman plucking the cancer stick to fling it away. Alfred found himself being bodily dragged back by a very impatient Arthur toward their dressing rooms.

"One of the great mysteries of the universe, I am sure. By jove, I think I've got it!", Arthur said in sarcastic tones sharp enough to make even Gilbert wince. "Gilbert, why don't you go find Merlin…."

"Matthew.", Alfred supplied helpfully.

"…Markus…."

"Matthew.", Gilbert corrected, "How are you not getting this?"

"Whatever! Moving on.", Arthur fumed, "Go find Alfred's brother and apologize to him."

"Apologize for what!? I'm sorry you grabbed my five meters and decided to feel it up?", Gilbert squawked in indignation. His present company was becoming to involved with itself to give a flying fuck though about him it would seem.

"Yes, exactly. Go. Go now.", Arthur ordered with an empirical flick of the wrists as if he were dismissing a bevy of servants.

Gilbert started to sputter out some sort of retort when a ring of keys was thrown hap hazardously into his face. "There ya go. Take my car, dude.", Alfred added.

"I don't even know where I'm going!", Gilbert snarled, managing to barely caught the decorated loop of jagged metal in time.

"It's called a GPS, short bus. Just type 'home' into it and let yourself in.", Alfred managed to say before his voice failed him, Arthur attacking his throat enthusiastically with his tongue and teeth now. Gilbert was a little impressed that the pair was still trying to navigate down the hallways and around the other dancers. Arthur did break away long enough to tell off the Rose King though, Francis getting a little too interesting in the couple's activities.

"What if he throws me out?! I got to get some sleep. I work two shows tomorrow!", Gilbert argued, feeling very put out at the moment. "And I need some clothes. I'm wearing a thong and robe, for fuck sake. Not the best outfit to go apologize in considering the guy ran off screaming from me."

Alfred paused in the doorway of the stripper's dressing long enough to say a few words before he was pulled in by Arthur. "Just tell Mattie that I said you could crash in my bed. The password is 'hamburgaler'. He won't mess with you then.". The door was slammed in Gilbert's face. It reopened long enough for some random articles of clothing to be thrown out into the hall. It was followed immediately by the sound of another door slam, a lock clicking, and a chair being wedged up under the knob.

"Password? Hamburgaler? What the fuck?", Gilbert eloquently summed up his evening as he pulled on a pair of dark jeans of indeterminate color and a t-shirt that was obviously Arthur's and proudly proclaimed he was a Clash fan. Shoes apparently were not in the mix though. He would have to go bum a pair of footwear from Antonio or Francis.

Lost in thought during his shoe quest, Gilbert played with the keys in hand, snorting in amused disgust at the variety of key chains that were mixed in among the keys. Most of them were overly patriotic or just ridiculously stupid.

Going home was out for him it would seem. Arthur would want the apartment to screw on every surface available and he notoriously did not share or give a fuck if you were in the room or not. He could go crash at Francis's place but he would never get the smell of roses out of his clothes and he happened to like these jeans. Gilbert hoped Arthur was planning on never seeing his vintage t-shirt again cause it had a fated demise with a pair of scissors later on.

Gilbert decided as he reached Francis's dressing room, a smile slipping onto his face. He wondered what the Canadian would do when he opened the door to find him standing there. Only way to find out was to go.

"Sure. Why the hell not."


	3. Chapter 3

APH PruCan Dirty Dancer 3

Matthew woke up alone, feeling freshly mortified. Unfortunately upon returning home last night, he had not drank enough to make himself forget the previous evening of going to a tacky strip club and palming a male dancer's assets. It was just the right amount however that he felt like month old cold shit warmed over to a crispy finish.

"Oh Maple.", Matthew groaned, cradling his hot head in his thankfully cool hands. The conflicting sensation felt ridiculously wonderful for a moment until the rest of his brain sorted itself and woke up. Tenaciously good memory played back last night's events with sharp clarity over and over again as if on a demented loop. Matthew was beginning to think that his subconscious was a sadist bastard or harboring some sort of grudge against his waking mind. Crystal clear memories played back his night on repeat, all of them centering around a certain person, a man with silver hair and wine soaked eyes. The thought of him made Matthew's palms tingle from the lost heat of his ashen skin, and the heft of his impressive organ that had graced the touch of Matthew's fingertips ever so briefly. Small tight muscles twitched low in Matthew's body causing him to shudder as he let out a long breathe that drained some aspect of his self while fully renewing others.

Giving in to temptation, Matthew laid back on the bed, biting on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood as his hands released their death grip on his head to slide lower down his body. His fingers just skirted over the material of his boxers, the light touch making his skin goose bump. He arched his hips toward it, his growing hardness greedily wanting contact.

It wasn't his fault that the stripper was so damn attractive. It was the man's job after all, to be lusted after, fantasized about, and wanted so desperately that it hurt. There was no reason to be feeling guilty, Matthew told himself over and over again under his breathe as his fingers dipped beneath the elastic band of his boxers.

He gripped himself slowly, one hand going around his shaft as the other went under to cup his balls, fingers stroking the velvety skin he found there lightly. He let out a harsh rasp of air, imagining someone else's hands in their place. The albino wouldn't go fast. Matthew had seen the way that he smiled, the way he had moved. It was more of a smirk than anything else, a bearing of teeth, belonging to the sort of man who would want to tease his lover slowly. He would want Matthew to beg, make him do so before he went any further.

"Please.", Matthew whispered to his fantasy, shivering from the note of quiet yet heated desperation in his own voice. Hands tightened in response along his shaft in response to it, a callused thumb rubbing his leaking head in achingly slow circles. Matthew started to pant as he arched his back a little into the gesture, closing his eyes as he did so to more fully focus on the man in his head doing these things to him.

Eyes like hard rubies but with more fire within them would rake over his body, taking in every inch of his pale flesh which would look practically tanned next to the albino's own. Matthew mentally refused to call the man by his banal stage name of Holly, Jägerbomb, or whatever stupidity he chose to call himself.

Matthew gasped as his balls were cupped harder, long fingers separating them almost too roughly to be pleasurable to roll the sensitive orbs apart and back. Other fingers stayed just as busy, moving steadily up and down Matthew's fully erect shaft to tug at the head of it almost teasingly, pinching when and where it should be gripping. It was rougher than what Matthew was normally used to, the short bursts of pain mixing seamlessly with the overall pleasure but it felt so damn good.

And he would tease, the albino. He would sit back far enough to touch, stroke, and torture the most private parts of Matthew yet far enough away so that Matthew couldn't reach all of him. Matthew's fingers burned to feel the satiny lengths of scars that ran across colorless flesh, like cracks in the ice of a frozen pond. He wanted to take mouthfuls of it, to sink his teeth into the perfect whiteness of that skin and mark it with splotchy red and purple indentations. That pallid throat and chest needed bright chains of love marks upon it, would show off his claim of flesh so well to all those who dared to look.

Most of all, Matthew wanted to touch the albino's hair, that sparkly silver hair. It would be fine yet thick, soft to the touch but with an unique silken texture. Matthew wanted to run his fingers through it and twist the spiky locks around his fingers and around them so that it looked like his hands were full of bound starlight. It would be one of his life regret's that he had not stayed to the end of the show. Matthew would never know if there was a trail of silver like a lost nebula that led downward. He imagined the tight silver curls clustered around a weeping erection anyway, the albino's need light purple instead of the vicious puce red Matthew's own body was. The very thought of it made Matthew pant and groan like a wounded animal.

The hands moved with greater urgency now as the body underneath them rocked in desperate, jerky movements, narrow hips thrusting against the cage of fingers into completion. A full tight feeling settled itself low in Matthew's abdomen, burning there hot and heavy as growing pressure waited for some sort of release. Matthew whimpered, trying to will himself to go slower just for a moment longer. The albino would stay silent up to this point merely content to watch him and ignore his own need, just giving a small smirk now and then at a particularly loud, wet reaction on Matthew's part. When Matthew was near the end like he was now and flat out begging for it shamelessly in a husky voice that didn't know any other word other than 'please', only then would he speak. Matthew had heard it enough last night to remember it now. A deep voice roughened by smoke and smoking. A throaty intonation that made every word come out slightly ruined and twisted wrong. That forceful German accent would make even the mildest suggestion sound aggressive, demand that it be obeyed to the letter. The albino would just say one word to him then. Matthew would only need one.

"Come."

Matthew's eyes flew open as his back arched off of the bed fully, his toes digging into the mattress to seek for some sort of purchase. Not knowing his imaginary lover's name, Matthew settled for just shouting out random noises his pleasure. The back of his eyelids were painted with white sunspots as his body thrummed with blissful release, it coming out through his nerves in warm waves that pulses and bounced back in upon themselves. When he came back down from the shining peak of his high, Matthew could feel his hands being covered with sticky thick cum. He trembled as the heated fluid ran down his wrists and onto his inner thigh.

Pulling his soiled hands out of his now moist boxers, Matthew wiped them off on the sheets, still shuddering from his orgasm. "Fine. Maybe I am out of the closet…", Matthew grumbled down at his lower half. He was feeling mildly pathetic now for being so turned on by such a meager experience and some random stranger, but it was his first time in that kind of situation. Really, who could blame him? And the stripper had been…..attractive.

Matthew gritted his teeth as he turned that word around in his head. He stripped down to his birthday suit, throwing his jizz covered undies on top of the equally ruined sheets to gather them all up in one go. It looked like he was doing laundry today whether he liked it or not.

"I'm an idiot.", Matthew chided himself. The stripper had been more than just merely attractive. The accent, all harsh and blocky had been smex on the ears, the scarlet eyes the sun's corona to the soul, his skin winter's silk, and his silver hair a comet's tail.

"What in Maple am I thinking aboot? A comet's tail? I really am an idiot. It's not like I am ever going to see him again.", Matthew muttered, not bothering to redress as he stepped out into the hall. He shared a large private rooftop suite with only his twin Alfred and the brothers had seen each other naked enough times it didn't really matter anymore. That and Alfred had the morals of an alley cat and about as much shame as one too. Naked time was anytime in the Jones/Williams home.

The top floor apartment offered a spectacular view overlooking the city, considering most of the walls were made of two way glass that let them look out and no one else look in. It was more than enough room for the two grown men, especially if they needed to stay out of each other's hair for a while. Besides a slew of bedrooms and other random rooms of various functions, it also had an indoor pool, a complete gym with sauna, a gourmet kitchen, and even a library. It was like having a large looking glass house set up in the clouds or a fortress of solitude as Alfred liked to call it. Matthew continually forgot the origin of the comic book reference whenever it was used( which was often cause Alfred never knew when to let a joke die a peaceful death).

It was the weekend so Matthew didn't really have anything to do except check to see if Alfred made it home or at the very least, to safe harbor somewhere else. A glance into Alfred's room told him though that his brother had slept here though their expansive leather couch lacked his Saturday morning cartoon watching ass upon its cushy depths.

"Al, don't even think about trying to make breakfast again.", Matthew yelled in the direction of the kitchen as he padded down one of the many hallways toward the laundry room. "Just give me a second and I'll make us some pancakes.". Chucking the soiled fabrics into the washer, Matthew realized belated that Alfred hadn't answered him back which was unusual considering the subject of food had just been announced and willingly offered. Alfred usually made it a point to be well underfoot until the process of making breakfast was accomplished.

Couple that with the absence of morning coffee smell, and something was defiantly wrong. Alfred's caffeine addiction was to the point that it was practically neurotic, meaning nothing in life could start until Alfred had a steaming cup of joe as soon as he woke up. Matthew was sure Alfred could be dying and still demand his fix before shuffling off his mortal coil because heaven might not have a Starbucks.

"Alfred? Are you here?", Matthew called out. It was entirely possible that Alfred had wanted breakfast earlier than Matthew felt like getting up and decided to step out for some McDonalds to triple order the entire breakfast menu. Matthew looked for his phone as he walked back into the living room, trying to remember where he had put the damn thing to give his wayward twin a call. A prickly sensation along the back of his neck made Matthew look over his shoulder though…..

….and into crimson eyes that were watching him intently. Matthew blinked in surprise, his mind processing the fact that the albino stripper from last night and the current focus his latest wank session was watching him from his chosen spot of living room wall not too far away, drinking one of Matthew's beers.

Matthew noticed small details like that in times of stress and/or shock. Things like the kind of beer the albino was drinking mainly because all Alfred drank was bottled piss that passed itself off as beer and was an ongoing argument between the two of them. He observed from the posture of the albino's body that he had been looking out of one of the many large wall windows, enjoying the aerial view. Matthew saw that the man's feet were bare, looking obscenely white against the plush dark carpet and that his feet were fine boned and slender with long toes. Matthew took note that the albino's silver hair looked even better in sunlight, the color more of a shimmering sterling now shown in natural light than a pewter under artificial lighting.

All these little things and more Matthew took notice of before the more pending and obvious details involving himself like his phone in hand, his magnificent fluff of bed head, or the fact that he hadn't bothered with even putting on underwear this morning.

"Ummm…..Guten Morgen.", the albino said rather softly, his voice as rich and throaty as Matthew remembered it being, the spoken German like spikes of pure lust to his inner most being, "You're kinda naked…just thought I should point that out.".

"Yes. Yes, I am.", Matthew nodded in an almost stoic manner. He tried to think of what one did in this sort of situation before opted for the 'run away screaming' option. It had worked well for him in the past so why fix what wasn't broken.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Gilbert finished his beer off slowly to give himself a moment to consider things. The Molsen hadn't been half bad considering it wasn't Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier, but really what was?

The morning had started off interestingly enough. Alfred's bed had turned out to be a California King big enough for an orgy plus some friends to watch. Gilbert had sent the night and a good part of the morning languishing in the depths of it. Exploration of the vast apartment had turned up a pool with a Jacuzzi. Gilbert had taken full advantage of that as well and all that the massaging jets had to offer. After that, he had raided Alfred's closet for a new shirt since Arthur's too tight Doors shirt had met an ill fated demise involving sharp implements and lighters. Arthur really only had himself to blame for this clothing homicide. He had not bothered to provide Gilbert with any footwear when he had kicked the albino out of their mutual dressing room and laid claim to their apartment for his booty call. These things happened(especially to other people who annoyed Gilbert).

After acquiring himself a rather nice long sleeved dress shirt in a sultry shade of black pinstriped with red that he was sure Alfred wouldn't miss(not like he gave a damn), Gilbert managed to find the kitchen after getting lost only a few times and backtracking. He had been enjoying his pilfered beer and the sunlit view of the city's rooftops when an even better one strolled obliviously through the living room.

The shy blonde from last night, Alfred's brother, Matthew walked right past Gilbert, muttering to himself as he carried a load of laundry. He yelled something about pancakes and breakfast, confirming in Gilbert's mind that Alfred was as useless in the kitchen as Arthur…..then again, maybe not. No one could be that bad.

Based on the passing view from behind, Matthew was quite naked. He also had an exquisite ass. Gilbert had considered his options at this point. Nothing he thought of could turn out well. Matthew obviously didn't know he was here and Gilbert might get caught sneaking out, if he could even find the front door in time to do so. He ran out of time and options as the blonde reappeared again, calling for his brother and lacking any strategic coverage.

Not one to pass up good things presented to them, Gilbert studied Matthew openly while he had the chance. Alfred had mentioned before that Matthew was often mistaken for him and though there were similarities, there were also distinctive differences. Matthew's hair was longer, the light strawberry blonde locks wavy as they brushed the tops of his fair shoulders. His eyes were lighter as well, especially now that Gilbert could see them properly in daylight, the orbs shifting from a transparent lavender to a dark periwinkle with every movement or emotion.

The Canadian was pale but it was the natural skin tone of a person who spent a lot of times indoors and not the colorless shade that Gilbert's own was. It looked soft and well cared for, the expanses of it unmarked with scars and very few freckles. It fitted nicely over a muscular body, one the bespoke of many hours in the gym or other strenuous activities. Gilbert was betting gym, Matthew's hands looking too soft to have participated in other rougher sports.

Gilbert caught himself licking his lips as his eyes traveled down toned pathways toward long legs that went on forever and what lay between them. While nothing could ever really compare to his own five meters, the Canadian's equipment could definitely give his junk a good run for its money. No wonder Arthur was all over his twin.

Matthew found what he was looking for which turned out to be his phone apparently before he realized someone was watching him from not more than three or four feet away. The blonde's eyes opened wide enough that it actually looked painful, his mouth hanging open a bit in shock as he stared at Gilbert, blinking several times in a slow rigid manner. Gilbert tried to look as harmless as possible as he struggle for something to say that wouldn't blow up in his face.

'Good Morning' had seemed safe enough. Matthew hadn't reacted badly to it even as Gilbert realized belated he had said it in German by accident. Next, he tried for being helpful. That had not turned out so well. Much like the night before, Matthew ran off with a shrill scream from him.

"At least he didn't break anything this time.", Gilbert shrugged, putting his empty beer bottle on a convenient decorative shelf. Fuck if he knew where the garbage bin was. He had better things to do than look for it. Things like following a very naked blonde with a perky ass.

Gilbert didn't have to go very far to find him. Matthew reappeared soon enough fully dressed.

And armed with a hockey stick


	4. Chapter 4

APH PruCan Dirty Dancer 4

"Y-YOU!", Matthew growled out, his inner rage and humiliation making his voice shake. The albino's eyebrows shot up with his hands into the air with surprise mixed with loads of self-preservation, carefully showing the Canadian that he was not a threat. It was about the only thing that kept Matthew from taking a swing at his head. "What are you doing in my house?", he decided to go for the most direct line of questioning.

"Don't wear my name out or anything.", the albino rolled his eyes, not showing a whole lot of sense by poking the bear, considering over 38 inches of professional grade carbon fiber was being expertly wielded by an enrage Canuck. Matthew displayed how unhappy he was at the moment with life in general, the stripper ducking just in the nick of time as the hockey stick came down at a swift arch. The head of the stick embedded itself into the drywall like a hot knife through butter, leaving behind a rather impressive hole. The albino shakily dry swallowed, making another careful show of hands as Matthew pulled it out of the wall with very little effort on his part.

"Holly?", Matthew attempted to remember. It was the first thing that came to mind. The dancer winced, giving him a sour look back but only for a moment before Matthew started to step forward again, hockey stick raised.

"Fucking Feliks. Nein. The name is Gilbert. Gilbert Beilschmidt. Now would you calm the fuck down.", Gilbert said quickly, waving his empty hands in front of him in the hopes of convincing Matthew not to break his legs or his face. "Please?" It worked well enough for Matthew to hold back but not disarm.

"You still haven't answered my question! What are you doing here?!", Matthew snapped, his eyes narrowing, "How do you know where I live, how did you get in, and where the hell is Al!?". Matthew had a bad B movie plot run through his head of two strippers kidnapping his wealthy twin brother and then holding him for ransom. The concept was shot down by his common sense and knowledge that Alfred would drive his potential kidnappers crazy enough that they would pay Matthew just to take him back.

"Mein Gott, calm down spaz.", Gilbert said in tone that sounded like it would be normally used on baby chicks, lost kittens, and now enraged hockey stick wielding Canadians, "He is probably eating some burnt to hell scones right about now and if he's really lucky, getting some morning nookie. Your idiot brother is with Lord Eyebrows.".

"Eyebrows. Do you mean Ivy? The British guy?", Matthew hazarded, his headache returning in full force. Oh yeah, Alfred had dragged him down to the Pink Pony to meet his new boyfriend(?-that had never been clarified for him) who surprise, surprise was a stripper there. Life just kept on getting better and better all the time for him it seemed.

"Absinthe actually.", Gilbert corrected, cursing fickly Polish bosses under his breath, "His real name is Arthur and he's English. Those are just stage names."

"That still doesn't explain what you are doing here.", Matthew pointed out, glaring as he dropped back down into a fighter's crouch.

"Alfred gave me the keys and the car, and told me to crash here so that he could spend time with Arthur alone.", Gilbert explained quickly enough, the albino seeming to recognize the shift in movement as he backed further away.

"Why should I believe you?", Matthew countered, ready to end this. He normally wasn't a violent person but enough of his buttons had been pressed in too short a time period, overall embarrassment just one of them.

Showing off excellent survival skills, Gilbert grew very still, appearing to dig deep into his psyche for the answer. "Um….Hamburgaler?". Gilbert didn't even realize he had closed his eyes until he reopened them to find Matthew lowering his hockey stick with an amused expression on his face.

"Wow. Al gave you the password.", Matthew's eyebrows shot up in wonder. Alfred never gave out the password to just anyone. It was something ridiculous he had always insisted upon though, having watching way too many movies about paranoia, body snatching, and evil twins. Matthew shouldered the hockey stick, visible tension leaving his body. He leaned up against the opposite wall, watching Gilbert blinked back in surprise.

"Heilige Scheiße. You mean that actually worked?", Gilbert couldn't help but laugh, his own stress making him flippant. "Nice place you got here by the way.". His eyes darted to the damage in the wall and back to Matthew.

"We do well enough.", Matthew shrugged, examining the hole he had made earlier with a small sigh. He felt a lot more relaxed now, but still had the hockey stick in hand. Matthew noticed with a flicker of regret that Gilbert kept his distance from him.

"You would have to, to afford his royal highness.", Gilbert snorted in general amusement.

"Is that what Al is doing at the moment? Buying services?", Matthew asked in a flat tone, coming away from the ruined wall to trudge toward the kitchen. That was a depressing thought. Matthew decided he needed some sort of stimulant in his system whether it was caffeine, sugar, or both to deal with his life right about now.

"Stripper doesn't mean whore.", Gilbert said just as dryly back from behind him, the dancer's coldly spoken words a touch sullen. Matthew stopped to look at his company as uninvited as it was. He was met levelly with an unwavering crimson gaze. The albino held himself up proudly before him, looking back defiantly at Matthew as if daring the man to judge him and his profession.

Matthew dropped his eyes first, feeling slightly ashamed. He was being rude to basically a complete stranger and more so, a guest of Alfred's for no reason other than to appease his own momentary embarrassment and guilt. He had just jacked off no more than twenty minutes ago, using Gilbert as his fantasy(not that he knew that), and wasn't to blame for Matthew feeling guilty about it. "I'm sorey aboot that. I think I need something to eat. Low blood sugar.", Matthew sighed, setting the hockey stick off to the side and out of the way for now. Gilbert nodded, looking happier about it too as he followed Matthew into the living room.

"Awesome. You can make me breakfast.", Gilbert grinned, the albino flopping over into the depths of the couch. He had noticed the cushiness of the furniture earlier but had not had a chance to test it out. The cushions made a go at swallowing him whole. Gilbert wallowed in its embrace, stretching out his body to its fullest length.

Matthew found himself staring down at Gilbert without even really meaning to. The albino was a wraith like incubus against the inky black leather of the couch, the bare parts of his skin showing-his face, his hands, his neck, his feet- were so pale they seemed to glow against their background. The spiky locks of moon chased silver fluffed out from Gilbert's head to make a strange halo around it. Matthew's fingers twitched in longing to thread their way through it.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Gilbert knew when he had an audience, arching his neck in response to it, showing off its corded slenderness, his tongue peeking out to touch his too pale lips in subtle teasing. Matthew looked back at him dazed, his hand going up to touch his own. Gilbert bit back a snicker. The other man probably didn't even realize he was doing it. Matthew scared a little too easily though, so Gilbert let it go for now.

"Breakfast?", he reminded instead, casting his voice breathlessly low as he tested the waters. Gilbert wanted to see how the other would react to him. He watched in amusement as Matthew's body trembled in response to the tone, the blonde closing his eyes. With that reaction alone, Gilbert knew he had been right all along. Even though Matthew had just tried to kill him, Gilbert had been sure he had seen a spark of yearning and the subtler signs of longing from the Canadian the night before and even more so right now. Whether Matthew was willing to admit to it to himself or Gilbert was another matter entirely though.

Sitting up as quietly as he could, Gilbert reached up to lightly place his hands on Matthew's forehead. He kept the touch of skin on skin light as he let his winter hands slide down along the sides of Matthew's face to cup it gently. Matthew started to lean into the contact until he realized what he was doing with a jolt, his eyes flying open to stare back at the albino wildly, his eyes turning almost violet with churning emotions. Gilbert kept his hands in place to keep the other man from moving away from him. Matthew did have a bad tendency of running off from him.

"W-what are you doing?", Matthew stammered out, looking anywhere but directly at Gilbert, a hard thing to do considering that the albino was right in front of him holding his face still. His skin grew hot and red underneath Gilbert's palms as it flushed darkly.

"Just checking to see if you have a fever. You were shaking a few seconds ago. I was concerned.", Gilbert said smoothly, taking small mercies on Matthew. He let him go to stride boldly past him into the kitchen as if he owned it. "I can't have you passing out on me since you owe me breakfast."

This was going to be way more fun that he ever could have imagined.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"It's not going to be anything fancy or special.", Matthew spat out, his renewed discomfiture making him prickly and defensive. He wondered what he would have done if Gilbert had tried to kiss him. Probably embarrass himself worse…..if that were even possible.

Matthew stalked toward the kitchen, brushing past Gilbert who looked more amused than offended by the harshly spoken words. Matthew didn't know whether to feel grateful for it or not. He wasn't stupid after all, just weak. He knew that Gilbert was just using him to get something to eat and he shouldn't make it out to be anything more than that. The albino was only here as a favor to Alfred. He had to remember that he had not come looking for Matthew or even knew he was going to be here.

Why would he? It wasn't like Matthew was Alfred, all flash, smiles, and charisma. No. That was not how their business or lives worked. Alfred was the Face, the Looks, the Personality. Matthew was the Planner, and the Brains, his role more behind the scenes and out of the way, which was fine and suited him best. No one looked at him in the same manner they did Alfred anyway. They never had, barely bothering to acknowledge Matthew at all unless they mistook him for Alfred which led to many an awkward conversation and sometimes confrontation.

"Sounds good to me.", Gilbert interrupted Matthew's mental turmoil, reminding the Canadian that he was not alone and could not stare off into space to zone out, "Got any more beer?".

"It's not even noon yet.", Matthew remarked, glancing incredulously from the time to the albino.

"Yeah, so? Your point?", Gilbert shrugged, taking it upon himself to rummage through the twins' fridge, liberating a familiar brown bottle. Matthew sighed inwardly as he made a mental note to pick up some more of his brand.

"This is alright.", Gilbert said after a long foamy pull from the bottle, "But all the rest you got in there is Scheiße."

"Says the moocher who is mooching beers.", Matthew pointed out as he started to take ingredients out of cupboards and found a mixing bowl.

"Waste of calories to drink piss flavored beer.", Gilbert continued his critique. He sat down in one of the high chairs beside the adjoining kitchen island. Matthew found himself being watched intently, and tried not to react from it. It was an odd sensation considering most people didn't even notice when he was in the same room as them. "That looks complicated.", Gilbert said after a few moments of dry and wet ingredients being combined and whisked together.

"It's not really.", Matthew shook his head, trying not to feel too prideful about it. "What do you want on your pancakes?". Matthew looked over at the albino when he didn't get an immediate answer.

Gilbert appeared thoughtful for a moment before dismissively shrugging. "I don't know. I've never had them before."

Matthew shifted back on his heels in surprise, giving Gilbert an skeptical look of surprise coupled with a weighty pause. "Were you born under a rock?", he asked before he could stop himself. The notion of a pancake less existence seemed so foreign to him though, "You seriously have never had a pancake before?". He turned on the stove top burner, oiling his favorite pan as it heated up.

"It's not like I'm awake for breakfast or even lunch for that matter, so yeah I've missed out.", Gilbert rolled his eyes, "I don't exactly keep a 9 to 5 job.".

"That's no excuse. IHOP's are 24 hours.", Matthew condemned, finally satisfied enough with the taste of the batter. His recipe was unique and an ongoing process toward complete pancake perfection. Flicking some droplets of water onto the pan to hear them hiss confirmed it was ready as well.

"Wunderbar. I am a depraved and uncultured individual. So sue me and my lack of breakfast food knowledge.", Gilbert grumbled, watching in mild interest as the disks of batter started to bubble. Matthew deftly flipped them in the pan without the aid of a spatula just to show off. Gilbert looked impressed enough by it so Matthew felt a touch smug as he got out the plates, silverware, and maple syrup, grabbing some butter from the fridge as an afterthought.

After repeating the cooking process several times and stacking the pancakes into neat piles, Matthew passed them over to his company with a smile. "Voila. I suggest them with syrup and butter although Alfred puts whatever he wants on them. His latest experiment was with peanut butter, M&Ms, and bananas."

"How do you take yours?", Gilbert asked, lifting the edge of the pancakes up tentatively with his fork to examine them.

"I'm a purist. Maple syrup only.", Matthew said firmly, doing just that. He personally felt any addition of butter to said pancake ruined the texture and balance of flavors. He was happy to see Gilbert follow his example, though he drowned his stack in syrup instead of just drizzling it. Matthew winced at the lake of golden brown syrup, choosing to watch Gilbert eat instead of commenting on it.

He was not disappointed with his company's reaction.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Gilbert wasn't expecting a whole lot from the food set before him. The humble pancake did not look impressive enough for type of adoration or devotion.

At the very least, the brown disks smelled good. Gilbert was so used to odor and taste of charred foods thanks to Arthur and his total lack of culinary ability that is almost surprising to have food that was more than just merely edible.

The pancakes were light and fluffy despite the heavy coating of syrup on them. Not that the brown sugary liquid detracted from anything though. It was a taste bud miracle unto its own self upon his tongue. Gilbert tried to remember if he had ever had anything like it before but kept drawing a blank. He was only vaguely aware of Matthew asking him something, Gilbert was so wrapped up in his food bliss, sighing deeply as he closed his eyes in pancake nirvana.

"So how is it?", the question finally translated itself helpfully into English. Gilbert moaned in response, shoving more heaven that was named pancake into his mouth. "That good, eh.", the voice of the maker of pancakes and goodness laughed. It was a nice sound, light notes of pure and uninhibited joy, one that made Gilbert pause in his mouth orgasm to look over at Matthew.

Matthew leaned with his elbows on the counter, one hand cupping his face to hold it up while the other played with his fork, twirling the implement. He was most relaxed Gilbert had ever seen him in the albino's presence, with a soft smile on his face making it look younger and so gentle in expression. Matthew's tanzanite eyes sparkled with mirth over Gilbert's obvious enjoyment, the colors of the orbs shifting between light blues and purples in a dazzling swirl. His hair tumbled and gathered about his shoulders in soft golden waves completing the picture, edging it with a sunny glow. Despite the sweetness that coated it, Gilbert could feel the inside of his mouth drying out. He had thought Matthew was merely cute before but he realized he had been so very wrong in this notion.

Matthew was more than that.

He was beautiful.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Matthew watched as Gilbert went for his beer suddenly to chug down half of the bottle's contents, the albino's cheeks turning a dark pink. "You shouldn't eat so fast. I can always make you some more.", Matthew told him, feeling very pleased at the moment and totally misunderstanding the albino's reaction. It was nice to have someone else besides Alfred enjoy his cooking. Gilbert grumbled something out at him around beer foam and masticated pancake in response. Dismissing the muttering as nonsense, Matthew got up chuckling, intent on cooking off the rest of the batter. If Gilbert didn't finish the pancakes off, Alfred definitely would later.

As he watched the pale disks started to bubble up, Matthew worked his bottom lip between his teeth in thought. Gilbert would probably want to go home after this. Matthew found to his own surprise though, that he was feeling apprehensive about it. The thought of Gilbert suddenly not there made him feel uncomfortably hollow and his living space seem far more empty than it actually was.

Lost in that strange feeling of abandonment, Matthew jumped in surprise when fingers touched the tortured strip of flesh, ending the porcelain abuse of his lips. Gilbert had moved very close to him again without Matthew realizing it. This near, Matthew noticed that the albino's eyelashes were very long and the color of iron at their bases, the color fading out in length to a light dove grey at their tips. The effect was lovely and drew distinction nicely with the overall effect of Gilbert's eyes. Matthew could see now that they were actually many shades of red-scarlet, fulan red, carnelian, Venetian, sangria-blended together with some contrasting notes of magenta and lilac that made all the other colors seem brighter.

Matthew could let himself get lost in those eyes.

"What's on your mind, Birdie?", the albino asked, drawing back now to put his dishes into the sink as if that were his true intentions all along. To hide his growing blush, Matthew made a show of paying way too much attention to the coloring of the pancakes as he flipped them into completion.

"So…um…..", Matthew flailed mentally about for a topic of conversation to distract himself from thinking about awkward things-like how Gilbert's lips would feel against his own or if he would keep those fiery eyes open when…if…he meant if(bad Matthew!)they kissed, "…..Why do…..Why are you….um…ah.". Matthew cringed at the lame ending of his non question, accepting the life fail for what it was. He set the pancakes out on a cooling rack and put the pan in the sink with the mixing bowl and his own plate to clean later.

"You can say it. It's not a bad word and I won't get offended.", Gilbert snorted in amusement at the Canadian's discomfort and kitchen fidgeting, "Stripper. Exotic dancer. Nude Entertainer. Erotic Performer."

"…..Never mind….it's a stupid question and none of my business.", Matthew said quickly, feeling his cheeks catching fire. He rubbed them, willing the redness to go away as he cursed his pale skin. Gilbert didn't seem to be having that problem but then it didn't appear he got embarrassed often either.

"Kesesese. It's not a big deal or a secret. I've always been a night owl and I happen to like the hours. I also make good money doing it and I get to drink for free.", Gilbert laughed, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the kitchen island. Matthew joined him there, feeling too jumpy to sit down but still wanting to be near the pale man.

"Yeah but….", Matthew floundered, not really sure what he was asking anymore. Gilbert seemed to know though, the albino dropping his arms so that he could run his hands through his hair.

"I don't sleep with people for money if that is what you were really going for.", Gilbert sighed at the common misconception of his profession and second most common question he got in this line of conversation, "Neither does Arthur. It's just dancing and business to us. It's one of the reasons we work together so well. We like taking money from desperate, lazy people and we're both really good at it."

"Hey my brother is one of those desperate lazy people.", Matthew laughed weakly.

Gilbert shook his head, "No, he's not. C'mon Birdie, I know you're smarter than that. You've seen how they look at each other."

"Yeah…..", Matthew admitted slowly. Alfred was impetuous and reckless, but he did not fall in and out of love carelessly or often. He was committed when he found someone to care for and no one could be more loyal to his lover than Alfred.

"He came in a while ago, looking to kill some time and caught one of Arthur's acts. Since then, the fathead has only been looking at his royal nibs and vice versa. Those two are so retarded for each other it's hilarious even though they try to ignore it half the time, acting as if it some sort of fling or one night stand.", Gilbert explained. Arthur's feigned indifference was almost painful to watch sometimes considering he spent most of it sneaking sideway glances at Alfred, and when Alfred wasn't following Arthur around like some sort of slut puppy, he spent the rest of the time purposely annoying the Englishman just to get a reaction from him.

"So Al's….in love.", Matthew concluded.

"Got it in one.", Gilbert nodded.

"And Arthur?", Matthew asked cautiously. It was one thing if Alfred was in love and another if that love was being misplaced or misused.

"Is in so deep he's practically blinded by it. They'll get their bearings eventually though and then I'll have to look for a new partner.", Gilbert sighed, not looking forward to the inevitable.

"Why is that?", Matthew was confused.

"Arthur's gonna quit dancing when he figures out that he's actually in love with the dumbass and Al won't want him to do it anymore anyway. Your brother doesn't exactly strike me as the type who is willing to share.", Gilbert explained.

"Oh…." was all Matthew felt like saying, his insides feeling faintly numb.

"What's a matter?", Gilbert asked.

"It's nothing.", Matthew said too quickly, the odd feeling taking on some sort of new form that felt sharp and twisted in his stomach. Of course Alfred was in love and had found someone who would adore him back.

"Liar.", the man at his side said bluntly.

"You don't know me well enough to say that.", Matthew intoned quietly, mentally adding, "No one does except for maybe Alfred." It wasn't like he had never had a date before or been single forever. There had been others. They had just never lasted long enough to mean anything to him other than disappointment.

In high school, Matthew had dated a sweet Ukrainian girl named Katysusha. They had been so shy and nervous with each other though, the relationship had never moved on past terminally platonic. Her frightening older brother and bat shit crazy sister hadn't helped matters either and had ultimately attributed to the demise of their time together.

In college, Matthew had met his first boyfriend who was also conveniently his drug dealer, Hans. They had broken up went he had moved back to the Netherlands, the tall blond tired of the drug laws here.

Seychelles had been the first major mistake afterward. A gorgeous dark haired girl from the tropics with aspirations of becoming a model had only dated Matthew to get closer to Alfred. Needless to say when he had found that out, that relationship had crashed and burned with no survivors.

Erik was Matthew's latest attempt at dating. The professional Danish soccer player with intense blue eyes and wild blonde hair had been adventurous and fun in and out of bed, the man a generous lover, a real giver. Unfortunately, that meant he gave it to everyone else as well. When his affair with one of Estonia's wealthiest bachelors(some computer genius who had started up his own company) became international news, Matthew had to consider it ended.

All unique experiences but nothing that had stirred his soul or touched his inner most walls. Yes, some of the betrayal and open slights had hurt, but it was nothing he hadn't gotten over with a little effort. He had his work and Alfred who always saw him and made time for him…

….except now, Alfred had someone else, someone whom he loved and was looking at and that…that hurt.

"I could."

The two words were quietly spoken and it took a moment for Matthew to even register them or their context. He looked over at the pale man beside him expecting a smirk or leer from Gilbert, some sort of insincerity that would allow Matthew to brush him off. It was worse than that though.

Gilbert looked serious, his expression calm but intent, his eyes looking deeply into Matthew's own. Somewhere deep inside of him, Matthew could feel a crack in an inner wall start and spread.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

For the life of him, Gilbert didn't know why he had said such a thing but had seemed like the right thing to do, an unusual warm spot growing deep within him. He held the look with the stunned blonde. Matthew broke it off first with an obviously faked laugh, the sound coming out a little too high and fast to be real to be taken seriously.

"You don't have to keep me company while my brother is gone if that is what you are doing. I can certainly entertain myself while he gets his rocks off.", Matthew said nervously, trying to make the remark come off as casual and airy. It sounded brittle though even to his own ears.

"That is a strange conclusion to jump to, Birdie. I don't give a flying fuck what your fool brother is doing as long as he is not 'doing' it on my bed.", Gilbert said with a shrug. His words sounded a little stiff but he was starting to get pissed off so fuck it. "You should know by now that I don't offer things because I have to. I'm not that nice.". He noticed Matthew wincing in response. "Anyway, I can't go home yet. Tweedle dee and tweedle dum are probably still screwing like coked up bunnies in our apartment and I don't feel like dealing with that shit yet.". Gilbert snickered at Matthew's flushed expression, "Kesesese. And if you are not willing to be my distraction, I'm going to go take a nap. I got to work tonight and tired doesn't look good on anyone, even with some glitter slapped over it.". Not that he wore glitter…..often. The shimmering stuff was Feliks' answer to everything from personal issues, to wardrobe malfunctions, to even some health questions. "When in doubt, glitter it out" wasn't just a mantra. It was a way of life for the Polish club owner, saner opinions(and random seizures) of others be damned.

Gilbert pushed away from the kitchen island to stretch his arms wide for a moment, working some kinks out of his back that the Jacuzzi had been unable to fix. Without another word to his host, Gilbert strolled out of the kitchen in what he hoped was the right direction, choosing a hallway at random. He refrained turning his head or looking around when he heard footsteps following him. Gilbert chose a door arbitrarily, thinking it looked bedroom-ish.

"Oh!…..um….wait!", came out almost as an 'eep' from Matthew as Gilbert started to enter the room. Gilbert bit back a grin, looking coolly over his shoulder at the Canadian.

"Like I said some of us work for a living. I got to give at least three performances tonight to cover Arthur's ass. I have a feeling he'll be calling out.", Gilbert waggled his eyebrows suggestively to convey the real meanings to his words. Arthur was going to be sore tonight, one way or another, that he was sure of. He pushed the door open, stepping in.

"No wait! You can't….", Matthew sounded panicky for some reason.

"I'm clean you tard and I slept here last night with Al's blessing.", Gilbert sighed, breathing out his disappointment. He had really thought Matthew was starting to like him and lose some of his misconceptions. He paused though when he realized the room he was in wasn't Al's. For one thing, it was far too clean. Alfred's room was a minefield where maturity went to die. Toys, video games, and empty fast food container made up an obstacle course around the bed. Layers of clothes were spread throughout like snow drifts made of smelly unwashed material, added an organic note to the layout and kind a lingering smell.

This room was almost sterile in comparison. White walls, white carpet, airy white curtains, white basic bedroom furniture, and sparse white on white marble decorations made Gilbert shiver at the amount of void color in the space. The only splash of real color was a brilliantly red down comforter that was thrown across a bed stripped of its sheets. It looked like a pool of blood against all the drowning white.

"This is my room.", Matthew sighed, "And you are welcome in it.". Gilbert looked around it again, wondering about the psychological implications the room represented about Matthew(and decided then and there that he really should stop watching Dr. Phil if he was going to start thinking things like that). The Canadian continued, unaware of the psych evaluation, "I just didn't want you to see that I still sleep with stuffed animals.". He went to sit down on the bed, scooping up a stuffed polar bear that Gilbert had failed to notice in among the pillows. It was a large enough animal that Matthew had to hold it with both arms, his head going down to bury itself in the toy's fur.

Gilbert's brain spasmed and backflipped at the overload of cute before him. He was still left speechless as Gilbert found himself presented with the bear. He raised at eyebrow at it and its cold button eyes.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Matthew didn't know what to expect now that his secret was out. Mocking laughter and snide comments were the norm though. What he didn't expect was to be presented back with a small bright yellow chick.

"What's wrong with that?", Gilbert said easily, looking a little miffed, "This is Gilbird by the way. He's pocket sized so he can go anywhere with me." He looked fondly down at the stuffed chick cradled in the palm of his hand.

"Gilbird?", Matthew drew out the name carefully, making himself not react to it.

"I know, right. Awesome name. Thought of it myself.", Gilbert looked so proud fawning over his chick that Matthew didn't have the heart to do anything else but nod in agreement, not trusting his tongue as of yet.

"Um, well…..this is Kumajirou.", Matthew said when he deemed it safe enough for him to speak.

"You just made that up.", Gilbert laughed, making a face at the long name. Matthew killed the snide remark in his head about silly animal names just in time.

"No, really it is. Al brought it back with him from Japan, so the name Kumabama just kinda stuck.", Matthew explained.

"You just said it was Kumajirou.", Gilbert pointed out, "Doesn't count if you can't remember it."

"Now who is making things up?", Matthew countered, "You're one to talk. Gilbird? Really?"

"Fuck off. Gilbird is an awesome name. You're just jealous of my brilliance.", Gilbert sniffed, putting his chick on top of his head for safe keeping.

"Psssht. Hardly.", Matthew scoffed openly.

"Admitting you have a problem is the first stage to acceptance and recovery.", Gilbert surmised, nodding sagely. Matthew rolled his eyes, adjusting his grip on the bear. He yelped in surprise when Gilbert sprung into action, neatly jumping on the bed with a flip. Matthew was almost dislodged by the force of it, the albino belly flopping like a corpse into the cloud of memory foam and down feathers.

Gilbert was happy to find that Matthew's bed was just as large as Alfred's and even better, it smelled faintly like the Canadian, all sweet with a slight lingering woodsy scent. Gilbert flipped over onto his back to look up at his startled host.

"So are you going to join me or what?", Gilbert grinned, reaching up to find his chick. He claimed a pillow for Gilbird, placing the plush toy in the middle of it.

"What!?", Matthew squawked.

"Not the answer I was really going for.", Gilbert leaned back up on his elbows, "But it does open up the realm of possibilities.". Gilbert watched in amusement interest as Matthew started to pace beside the bed looking frantic for some reason.

"I can't sleep with you!", Matthew blurted out when the pacing failed to dislodge the man from his bed.

"Why not? You have already touched my junk.", Gilbert poked, grinning as Matthew's face turned pale.

"Oh Maple, I'm sorry about that. It was an accident. It was dark and I..", Matthew started to ramble to have firm hand grasp his shoulders, shaking him to a stop.

"Calm the fuck down! I'm not asking you to blow me or go steady!", Gilbert said overly slow, giving Matthew some time to come back down to reason, "I just wanted to know if you wanted to take a nap with me. I sleep better with someone next to me.". Matthew remained silent, torturing his bottom lip again. "Don't you dare run off again.", Gilbert added hastily.

Matthew laughed out a nervous sound, despite the odd clenching ache in his gut. "I won't.". He managed a weak smile. "So this is purely for your benefit.", Matthew swallowed back his bundle of worries and fear.

"Ja, of course.", Gilbert said lightly, "When is it not?". Gilbert let him go to lay back down again, closing his eyes.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are a selfish bastard?", Matthew asked curiously.

Gilbert opened one eye before responding, a cheeky grin darted across his face, "All the time. I like to think they are simply jealous of my awesome being."

"I don't think you know the meaning of that word.", Matthew shook his head a theatrically sad gesture.

"See. Jealous.", Gilbert dove off of the bed with a smooth roll, stealing Kumajirou from Matthew's arms before claiming the bed for himself again.

"Hey!", Matthew yelled, going after his bear.

"Is for horses!", Gilbert shot back, rolling onto his side in defense. He curled up tightly around the stuffed animal. "Now lie down, shut up, or get out.".

"This is my room.", Matthew frowned down at the ball of stuffed animal and sleepy thief.

"Correction. My room. Invaded and conquered in the name of Prussia.", Gilbert informed him as he snuggled with the bear with a smug glow, "Watch out or it will be your vital regions next, Birdie.".

"What does that even mean?", Matthew mused, flopping down on the bed in a huff, poking at the albino's back with his toe to test his defenses. A pale hand swatted at him.

"I'm thinking of a word. It begins with 'sh' and ends with 'ut the fuck up and go to sleep'.", Gilbert growled. Matthew was quiet for so long Gilbert actually did start to fall asleep. The mattress dipped down further beside him waking Gilbert up enough though to feel an arm being cautiously put around him. A cool nose touched the back of his neck, tracing the line of it.  
Hot breathe tickled the back of his neck, stirring up the small hairs there with a warm tingle that spread with a lingering warmness. Soft lips brushed up against his ear. It took everything Gilbert had not to turn over and react. He was also grateful for the stuffed bear over his growing erection.

"Hoser.", Matthew said softly and that even sounded incredibly sexy.

"Mmmm. Jealous and bitter.", Gilbert murmured back, his voice rumbling in his throat. In an effort to distract himself from the man breathing over his skin, his hand failed about looking for some sheets to cover himself with to find bare mattress. "Hey, why don't you have any sheets?".


	5. Chapter 5

APH PruCan Dirty Dancer 5

There was a long pause of utter silence.

"So, why don't you have any sheets?", Gilbert tried again, feeling like it wasn't that hard of a question to answer. Matthew sat up as if bit by something though, sputtering out non sensible words, his face turning an unfortunate shade of puce that didn't look good on anyone. Gilbert stared up at him, confused by Matthew's intense reaction to such a simple question. The Canadian's response reminded Gilbert of this morning, of Matthew walking through the living room with a bundle of something. Gilbert only remembered it being vaguely white due to the fact Matthew had been naked at the time so Gilbert's attention to detail had been focusing elsewhere. The Canadian could have been carrying a bucket of midgets dressed up as fish doing the Chicken Dance for all he cared in light of the view of Matthew's perfect bare ass.

It all clicked then in Gilbert's head, his eyes widening as much as his grin which was rapidly degrading into a leer. The lack of sheets. The embarrassed man beside him. The near bludgeoning with a hockey stick over something as trivial as strolling nudity. Matthew stopped imitating a clogged sprinkler long enough to glare sullenly down at him.

"Was it me?', Gilbert asked, who could have been psychic as far as Matthew was concerned at the moment. Matthew shuddered, closing his eyes as his face pinched with tension. He looked like he was about to cry or start hitting something again. Gilbert was voting for waterworks personally. The gaping hole in the wall made by Matthew's hockey stick from his episode of spaz was still very fresh in the Prussian's mind.

"I mean, who could blame you after experiencing all this awesome up close and personal.", Gilbert rumbled, pitching his voice low. He ran his hands down his body, following the curves of it as he let his fingers fan out wide. Gilbert watched intrigued as Matthew reacted from it, his shoulders shuddering ever so slightly. "So how personal was it? How close? What did you do to me? Did you tie me up with the leather straps I wore last night?".

Matthew shifted uncomfortably, looking very carefully everywhere else except for at Gilbert. "Oh, so it was like that.", Gilbert grinned, a feral expression, "What did I do to you? Tell me. Tell me in detail and I'll do it again in real life."

"It's not like that! I…um…", Matthew failed to string words together cohesively, his defense dying an ashy death in his throat. He stared helplessly down at his hands instead.

Gilbert leaned up on his forearms to study the Canadian in open amusement.  
"You know you're not the only person in the world who has jerked off to a stripper. I would really suck at my job if I didn't turn you on.", he said mildly, "It's nothing to be ashamed about and I'm only teasing…..kinda."

"It's just that…..I don't know you….and Maple, you just showed up out of nowhere. I don't do these kind of things!", Matthew tried again to explain like a rational human being.

"Are you a saint or something? You don't pull the monkey on a regular basis?", Gilbert arched a slim silver brow of disbelief at Matthew.

"Monkey?! Yes! No!…..What?!", Matthew spazzed, ending his confusion with a heavy sigh, "Yes, I do, but I don't ever go to strip clubs or masturbate to random people I have just met."

"Well then, what do you want to know?", Gilbert settled back down, cushioning his head by folding his arms behind it.

"Huh?" was Matthew's intelligent reply back.

"I get it. Stranger, danger.", Gilbert shrugged, "You're embarrassed because I am the unknown and you have issues. I can't help you out with all of them but this particular one I can manage. Back to my original question, what do you want to know about me?".

"Isn't that kind of personal?", Matthew started to bite his bottom lip again.

"Kesesese! I love talking about myself. I am my own favorite topic.", Gilbert laughed, "Hell, I'm so awesome I'll even start you out. I have a younger bruder named Ludwig. He works at the Pink Pony as well but not as a stripper. He's a bartender. You can't miss him. He's the tall blonde built like a tank with the dumb Italian hanging off of him.".

"The red head who kept spilling things and singing?", Matthew hazarded a guess, faintly remembering a pair of twins with drink trays that fateful night , "Or the other one who kept cussing and throwing glasses at people?".

"The angry Italian is Romano and he is dating Antonio who performs as the Tomato Fairy. Mano was pissed because he was working our show and not Toni's that night. Feliciano is the one hopelessly in love with my bruder. They're both dumber than bag of hammers around each other so it can get pretty entertaining.", Gilbert chuckled, "Next question."

"Ok….but, um….I can really ask anything?", Matthew ventured carefully.

"My life is an open book to you.", Gilbert said with an easy gesture.

"How did you get all those scars?", Matthew asked. The albino was fully dressed now, but Matthew had seen enough bare skin last night to know that Gilbert was covered in the marks that shown like satiny silver lines all over his skin. "Unless that is too personal and you don't want to talk aboot it!", Matthew added quickly.

"Ja, because I never get asked that.", Gilbert rolled his eyes, "Calm down. I got them in combat. Ten years in special operations is hard on a body."

"You were a soldier?", Matthew didn't bother hiding his surprise.

"I wasn't just any soldier. I was a fucking bad ass! No one was better at long range reconnaissance than me.", Gilbert smirked, "Even West will admit that."

"West?"

"Ludwig. We were in the army together before we moved here from Germany to the states. His specialties were demolitions and combat training which were the exact opposite of mine, stealth and subterfuge. The army is full of witty assholes so Luddy got nicknamed West and I got called East. It just stuck after a while."

"I'm having a hard time imagining you being stealthy.", Matthew said dryly.

"Believe it. I'm obviously still here and total bonus, I know twenty different ways to kill a man using a paperclip and some chewing gum.", Gilbert said. He would have said more but Matthew was beginning to look more confused.

"I don't get it.", Matthew admitted, his brow furrowing in thought, "How did you become a stripper then? With your military history, you could be a bodyguard or running security somewhere."

"I told you that already. Night owl, good money, and free booze.", Gilbert sighed. It was obvious though that that answer didn't work for Matthew. "Look, just because I can, doesn't mean I want to. My job is very uncomplicated which means my life is uncomplicated and no one is trying to kill me on a regular basis. I like it that way.".

"I guess….", Matthew said thoughtfully.

"You still haven't told me what you do, Birdie.", Gilbert pointed out, "You live in a pretty big glass house to be throwing stones. No one get this rich without fucking up and fucking over someone. What do you guys do anyway? Obviously it pays."

"What has Alfred told you? Or Arthur?". Matthew shot back, adding the Englishman as an afterthought. He had to come to terms with Alfred's new boyfriend so best get it over with now.

"Arthur says it's confidential and Alfred says that he is a spy.", Gilbert shrugged.

"Al would say that.", Matthew muttered in amused disgust, "But for the most part, he right."

"What?", Gilbert barked out with some harsh laughter. He had met spies before in his past life and the twins did not strike him as the spy type, especially since announcing you were one kind of defeated the purpose.

"Al and I run a company called 'Moose & Squirrel'. It deals with corporate espionage, mostly the prevention aspect of it.", Matthew explained, "Alfred writes computer programs to stop hackers from targeting company's mainframes, and I study security systems. I test them to find out their weaknesses, faults, and loopholes."

"How do you do that?", Gilbert asked, not being able to imagine what the Canadian actually meant.

"Basically, I break into office buildings and sneak around. Other times I try to pass myself off as an employee. Both are methods to see how tight security is and if the company's employees are paying attention to details. That sort of thing.", Matthew said with note of pride. The companies he worked for would be screwed if he ever decided to become a thief. He had yet to be caught by any Rent-A-Cop. Matthew prided himself on it and knew that in some circles, he was referred to as 'The Ghost'.

"So instead of working a high risk job for the government, you work a boring ass desk job for corporations.", Gilbert summed up dismissively. He looked so unimpressed that Matthew took offense to it.

"Not true. Your major corporations have more money and people than some established countries. We guard and protect secrets, projects, and employees as well as general information. Sometimes that means going on the offensive.", Matthew defended his livelihood.

"Offensive against what? People stealing office supplies?", Gilbert laughed.

"We are talking about company's information which is worth millions if not billions of dollars. The difference is we are basically free agents with no protection or backing from any government. It's a brave new world out there and no one is playing by any laws or rules.", Matthew said, "I'd like to point out that you not the only one who knows how to kill someone with a paper clip. The difference is I can do it without the chewing gum. The job is not as humdrum as you may think. Spies are everywhere and can be anyone.", Matthew said solemnly, nodding to his own words.

"Including random strippers that show up that your apartment?", Gilbert teased, unable to resist.

"Al's not as stupid as he looks. He will have already run a background check on you and Arthur. He's probably already done one on the entire club, just to be on the safe side. He would have told me if something had pinged on his radar.", Matthew said smugly. Alfred was nothing if not overenthusiastic and very thorough about new projects even if it was a new boyfriends.

"That's really creepy and is that even legal?.", Gilbert frowned, something nagging at the back of his mind, "Moose and squirrel….Moose and squirrel…why is that so…..". Gilbert stopped his musings rather abruptly because he noticed Matthew beginning to color again. The Canadian had been so calm up to this point in conversation Gilbert couldn't help but wonder what he could have said to make Matthew blush so vividly. "What's wrong with you?", he asked as much.

Matthew reddened even worse now, looking away. "It's nothing.", he muttered quickly.

Gilbert wracked his brain, going over his last spoken words. "Moose and squirrel?", he said slowly, saying each word very carefully. Matthew shivered in response, parting his lip a small crevice to pant. Gilbert fought back the laughter that bubbled up in his throat in time, not wanting Matthew to think he was making fun of him. It wasn't what he was saying, it was how he was saying it. "Ah, so you like my accent, Birdie. Wunderbar.", Gilbert purred out, working his word's inflections to their best advantage. "That's good because I love to talk.".

"Shut up. Stop making fun of me.", Matthew glared, turning his back on the albino as he hunched over his knees. He nearly jumped out of his skin when cool hands ran their widths down his back, lingering there to caress at his sides. He hadn't heard Gilbert sit up and move closer to him.

"Why would you think I am making fun of you?", Gilbert said, pressing his advantage as the Canadian stilled under his touch. "I don't think you really want me to stop talking either. I think you would really like me to tell you to strip.".

"Right. Now."

Matthew gasped, his mouth dried out so quickly. He touched his tongue to his lips in a vain attempt to moisten them, trying to ignore the heavy breathing in his ear and the strong hands that were stroking his sides along his ribs, and moving lower and lower with each pass until Gilbert's hands came to rest gripping his hips.

"Are you ready to tell me what I was doing to you earlier?", Gilbert murmured, his too pale lips brushing along the shell of Matthew's ear, his quick tongue flicking at the soft lobe of it when it amused Gilbert to do so. Bone white fingers spread over the arch of hips, sinking further down into the area of sensitive inner thighs yet very careful not to touch anything else there. Matthew jerked back against the invasion, his back meeting Gilbert's chest solidly. It put so much more of him into reach, Gilbert sitting back to pull Matthew in-between his legs, their bodies pressed firmly to one another.

"Tell me, schöne.", Gilbert whispered into locks of reddish gold, enjoying the scents he found there, all sweet, spice, and musk. He could definite get used to something like this. He regretted them not being naked at the moment, but that would come soon enough. Matthew was starting to talk again.

"You….you were touching me.", Matthew said softly, not really knowing what to do with his hands. He finally settled on resting them on top of Gilbert's legs. He dry swallowed, feeling the tightness of the muscles that moved fluidly beneath the Prussian's jeans. Matthew felt weak imagining how those muscles would feel while driving into him.

"Like this?", Gilbert asked, trailing his hands upward. Matthew's breathe caught as the albino's knuckles barely brushed against his sack, the skin there feeling swollen and ripe.

"M-more.", Matthew stammered, his tongue darting out in a vain attempt relieve his lips, "You were touching me more.".

"Are you telling me….."Gilbert drawled out, letting his accent take the words to new forms, "Or asking me? Because I don't think you are ready.". Gilbert chuckled when Matthew stopped breathing, the noise a shuttering sound. Gilbert raised a hand so that he could catch Matthew's chin, tilting the blonde's head at the angle he desired.

Delving in, Gilbert took his time tasting Matthew's lips, starting with the bottom one. It was plushly textured and slighty bigger than his top lip. Gilbert just knew it could make the most delicious pout if Matthew were that type of person. His top was silken, the angel bow a sharp relief in its crown. Gilbert traced it with his tongue, memorizing its contour. He parted their clasp of weakened flesh with a darting tongue, tapping at the next door of teeth. Matthew opened his mouth with what could have been a sigh or a gasp.

Whatever it was, it gained Gilbert access to the first taste of being inside Matthew.


	6. Chapter 6

FOR THE LOVE OF PASTA, READ THE DAMN WARNING!  
IT IS THERE FOR A REASON…..

Warning: Some of these stories(not all) in the coming chapters will contain Yaoi. Yaoi is boy x boy love, man meat on man meat, all wieners-no buns. If you are not into that, do not read or complain. You have been fairly warned.

…  
If you are driving the short bus and still don't get it, Yaoi=Gay.

This story and Axis Powers Hetalia depicts people and persons as the direct personification of that nation/country, so if this concept bothers you, this might not be the right story for you, especially if you are unable to mentally grasp that these nations are centuries years old despite their outward appearance.

All people, persons, nations, and whatever represented in these stories are of legal age. No minors of any kind are depicted in these stories by the author, personal perception(s) of the reader(s) aside. Keep walking pedobears, nothing for you here.

It boils down to this-  
IF YOU DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ. IT'S THAT FREAKING SIMPLE!

"FACEPALM"…FOR THE LOVE OF DOITSU AND BEER…..  
I have nothing against any characters/states/nations of Hetalia. I understand that everyone has their favorite characters/pairing. I know I do. If you don't like how a character(s) is portrayed, please don't be a hater about it. If you think the writing is shit(I don't know what you expect-it already states I'm a hack on my profile), then write your own damn story about the nations. It is a lot easier to critic that create. Please keep that in mind. And once again-  
IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, DON'T READ! NOT A HARD CONCEPT!

Oh look another warning…XD

It was deliciously hot and sweet like nibbling on sun warmed honeycomb. Gilbert swallowed, licked, and bit to get all that he could find there and more as he tested the various surfaces he tasted with his quick tongue within that orifice. Matthew acquiesced beautifully beneath him, turning his body in Gilbert's hold so that the Prussian laid out fully on top of him now as their legs tangled together.

Making sense of the mess of limbs, Gilbert eased one of his knees between Matthew's legs to part his thighs. The Prussian grinned into the held kiss as he heard Matthew's breathe stifle and catch in his throat as Gilbert's knee came to rest at the base of the Canadian's ball sack, nuzzling it. Matthew broke off the contact to stare up at the albino wide eyed, his Adam's apple bobbing wildly as he tried to speak.

"Are you…..", Matthew breathily said, his words nearly coming out as a moan. He watched as Gilbert leaned back and away from his prone form, openly studying the Canadian. Matthew could only imagine what he looked like at the moment. Probably desperate and wanton with his legs falling back to allow Gilbert any kind of access that the Prussian wanted, Matthew's arms held above his head in no movement to stop the albino in this endeavor, his lips swollen and red, and his golden red hair spread out about him like a corrupted halo.

Toying with the top button of Matthew's jeans, just to tease, Gilbert paused painfully long in answering the hanging question. "It depends, liebling. Are you going to run away again?", Gilbert asked, his clever fingers popping open the button with an audible snap of metal and intentions. Matthew could only shake his head, too intent on not arching up and making more of a fool of himself in front of the stripper.

"Good.", Gilbert purred, taking the tab of the zipper more firmly in hand to pull in down tooth by tooth, making the metal click down like waning patience. "I'm not saying I wouldn't give chase but this does make life so much easier, don't you think?".

Matthew was too entranced watching Gilbert pull down his pants to actually answer this time, though he had enough thought to help the Prussian out in this by arching up and bending his knees out of the jeans as he wiggled out of his hockey jersey to let it off of to the side.

Tossing the pants over his shoulder, Gilbert took his time working his way back up the body laid bare before him by trailing his hands over Matthew's long legs. Bone white touches moved smoothly over ivory skin following the sharp arches of shins, the curved splendor of knees, and the muscular expanse of thighs that quivered and shook the nearer Gilbert got to his destination. Bright scarlet boxers were the only obstacle left between Gilbert's touch and what he was truly seeking, the object of his desire already wetting a patch of tented material into darker shades of red.

Placing his hands on either side of pale inner thigh, Gilbert pressed back, moving Matthew' s legs apart as far as they would go until they shook from strain and Matthew started to whimper from it. The tone of Canadian's noises changed when Gilbert leaned in to bite down on the apex of his boxer's protrusion. Letting the printed silk blunt his teeth, Gilbert's tongue pushing out past his porcelain to help the wet the material further, his salvia mixing with Matthew's precum almost seamlessly as Gilbert tasted a saltiness that made his mouth water for more.

Flailing fingers strove to find purchase on something, anything, Matthew settling for a death grip on the headboard, wishing for the cool comfort of sheets in his too hot hands. Matthew shook in near disbelief when that delicious stimulation was suddenly cut off. He opened his eyes wide enough to glare at the grinning Prussian, the albino's ruby eyes glittering with a strange mixture of lust and deep inner amusement.

"I need lube. I'm not going to do you dry. Believe me, you wouldn't thank me if I did.", Gilbert drawled out the last few words, the secondary meaning or warning of them lost on Matthew who was going near blind with want and need of anything that would alleviate his deep biting desire.

Sitting up enough to fumble at the nightstand's drawer, Matthew tried to get out the requested items quickly before any of other things inside there got noticed. It was an exercise in futility though, the Prussian's hands snaking in behind Matthew's own to seize what the Canadian had been trying to hide.

"Kesesese. So you are a dirty boy after all under all the shy guy act.", Gilbert chuckled darkly. He dragged his tongue along the length of the dildo he had procured in one hand, his other playing with the love egg and its controller, clicking the bullet shaped vibrator on and off. The buzzing noise made Matthew jump despite himself. Studying his hands as if they held the answers to life, the universe and everything else to keep from looking at the smug Prussian, the Canadian could already feel his cheeks darkening to a point of implosion. Small communities could have been powered for a month by the amount of heat that was coming off of Matthew's face.

"Do you want me to use these on you?", Gilbert asked. He was going to anyway, but he wanted to see Matthew's face when he gave in and consented. Lilac eyes darkened to violet by surges of desire darted from dildo to vibrator to Prussian in quick succession before settling on Gilbert's crotch, the material there strained disproportionably from all the rest.

The Canadian's choice, though silent, was obvious. Gilbert shook his head with a laugh. "You'll get that soon enough but first, I am going to have a little fun. You still have some choices to make before I decide them for you.", Gilbert smirked, lightly shaking the objects in hand as if to remind the other man of their existence. Matthew paled under his flush at these words, his mouth opening and closing, uselessly lacking in words. The Canadian settled on nodding instead.

"Speak up, Birdie. I want to hear your voice in more ways than one. Preferably screaming my name or how awesome I am.", Gilbert leered. He set aside his implements to dart his fingers to the elastic of Matthew's boxers, snapping them. Not excepting something so childish, Matthew yelped under the mild assault, moving back. That was a mistake or fortunate accident, Gilbert's fingers still hooked into the material at the time as the movement yanked the underwear down to Matthew's knees. Matthew whined as he fell back onto the bed, his hard on free and being caressed by the cool air moving around its moistened skin, clear precum making little rivulets down the fleshy tower to give it a glimmering sheen. Gilbert instantly made it his goal in life to follow their courses to the source to keep them from overflowing, using the flat of his tongue to swipe against the fountain of it, Matthew's slit.

"Yes, yes, yes! Please fuck me! Anyway you want!", Matthew gave in, practically sobbed, wanting Gilbert to seal his pale lips over the crown of his head and swallow him down or to throw Matthew's legs over his shoulder and fuck the Canadian until he came screaming.

Getting a Prussian to do what he wanted to do in his mind's eye though was like herding cats, Gilbert once again leaving off his tongue devotion to Matthew' s cock. Matthew toyed with the idea of just finishing himself off. A quick look at Gilbert' face was the only confirmation he needed though to know that that was not going to happen.

"Get onto your hands and knees.", Gilbert ordered, picking up the container of lube to examine as if he had never seen it before, waiting for Matthew to comply. Matthew groaned, his body feeling extraordinarily heavy for some reason as he positioned himself on all fours for the Prussian.

Matthew gasped as Gilbert's too cool hands grasped the smooth globes of his ass to part them, showing off the darkened fruit of his anus. Matthew gritted his teeth as a slick finger was placed to that heated door, the tip of it pressing in with little resistance. Matthew barely managed to keep himself from rutting against it, the one digit soon joined by another. Slick fingers scissored and twisted, going deeper and wider until Matthew could feel the knuckle of them pressing up to his ass. They were drawn back enough to let in a third and fourth at once, too soon. Matthew gasped in pain clenching down. He looked over his shoulder to glare at the Prussian who looked levelly back at him.

"It needs to be done. You will know why soon enough.", Gilbert soothed, distracting Matthew out of his annoyance and hurt by stroking his insides generously until he made Matthew jump with a cry of a different kind. "Found it.", Gilbert smirked, pressing his fingers in harder to stroke the nerves he had been searching for.

Matthew looked between his arms to see his cock looking harder than he had ever seen it, icy clear stands of precum coming off of the purple erection freely to attach themselves to the mattress. He was going to go nuts if Gilbert didn't touch him soon. Matthew doubted he could keep his balance to reach down between his legs and stroke himself off. Matthew gasped, the notion entirely destroyed in its consideration when all the fingers were suddenly removed without any warning.

Before Matthew could twisted around to complain, a hand on the small of his back stilled him into compliance. Matthew trembled in anticipation, knowing what came next, what he had been waiting for, for what seemed like ages. He cried out when something larger than fingers was pressed into him to its hilt in one sure thrust.

Matthew hissed at the feeling of it. "I don't want to be fuck by a piece of plastic!". The offending implement was only pulled back and shoved deeper in response. Matthew spat a long stream of French through clenched teeth. Gilbert didn't need a translator to understood how pissed Matthew was at the moment.

"I need you to come.", Gilbert rasped out in a hoarse tone, the strain of his own desire leaking through his resolve and his own clothing. Matthew strained beneath him, pulling away when he should have been pushing back.

"I want to come with your dick!", Matthew snapped, wondering how he was going to disengage himself from this to take what he really wanted. As if sensing his intentions, Gilbert leaned over Matthew to bite the back of his neck, keeping him in place. Matthew went nearly limp under the Prussian's teeth. Gilbert rammed the tip of the dildo into Matthew's prostate again to get his attention and to keep him from dropping.

"You can the second or third time you come but I need you to now so that you are open and relaxed for me. It will be less painful that way.", Gilbert explained, releasing his hold, taking a moment to swirl his tongue over the mark he had made there. His lips pressed to the sweaty skin of Matthew's back to trial kisses down its spine as far as he could reach.

"Oh please….You're trying to tell me you are that big?", Matthew huffed. Every guy likes to brag about his equipment, throwing in some exaggeration whenever necessary. It looked like Gilbert was no different from everyone else in that area. Matthew laughed about it until he looked over his shoulder at the Prussian's rather solemn expression, his next quip dying on his tongue.

"Ja. I am.", Gilbert answered simply, reaching his free hand around to grab Matthew's leaking shaft. The Canadian choked on his next words of mixed disbelief as thin fingers shifted over and around the super heated skin of his cock, the pad of a thumb moving over the slit of his head to press down with just enough roughness. At the same time, a near vicious jab abused his prostate causing Matthew to come, his voice shaking as viscous white fluid flooded over Gilbert's hands in hot sticky strands to cling to them. Matthew's arms gave out from under him, the Canadian going onto his elbows to rest his head upon his shaking hands. He was barely aware of the dildo being slid out of his cavity. Matthew was very aware of cold lube that was squirted into his ass, filling it.

"Maple!", Matthew eeped, raising up onto his hands in a snap at the amount of sudden inner and uncomfortable coldness. A hand between his shoulders blades pressed the Canadian down again back into his original position.

"Stay like that. It will be more comfortable for you.", Gilbert sighed, the lost air of it tickling Matthew's bare ass.

"You didn't have to do that, hoser.", Matthew said irritable, already feeling some of the lube drip out of him to run down his thighs. He wanted to just go clean up now and take a nap. The rustle of clothing being removed and of zippers being sounded made Matthew forget about such mundane notions though .

"Quit bitching. I have my reasons. Now spread your thighs wider.". Gilbert commanded, the flat of his hand making contact to a bare butt cheek. Matthew grumbled as he complied, letting firm hands guide and direct him into arching his back more as he parted his legs further. Matthew braced on his elbows, letting his head loll on his hands. Closing his eyes, he was feeling almost sleepy like this, even while being position so oddly.

Matthew's eyes flew open when something velvety, hot and dripping was placed to his slick entrance, stretching already worked walls to new points of elasticity. A whine escaped past Matthew's lips, followed by several sharp gasps. He risked a glance over his shoulder to see Gilbert leaning away from him or so he thought at first until Matthew realized Gilbert wasn't moving back. The Prussian was giving himself space so that he could work his way into Matthew, there was just that much of him.

"Don't move around. The first part is always the worst.", Gilbert said unnecessarily, stating the obvious. Matthew shivered, left to breathlessly to respond in pained moans as inch by inch by inch was pushed achingly slow into him, Matthew's insides complaining the entire time, trying to reject the massive object being infringed upon them. Matthew whimpered, biting down on his wrist to help distract himself from it.

"Almost there. Halfway done.", Gilbert said in little puff of hot breathe, pausing in his advancement to give Matthew some time to adjust. He ran his hands down Matthew's sides in an attempt to ease his discomfort. Gilbert released belated he should have just kept his mouth shut.

"Only halfway!", Matthew eeped, his skin breaking out into a cold sweat. He braced as he felt Gilbert start to move again. This time Gilbert didn't stop until Matthew could feel their skin touch again hip to hip. It left Matthew gulping helplessly at air. He had never felt so full before, his body threatening to split in two under the amount of pressure inside of him.

Matthew cried out at hand gripped his sides and Gilbert started to rock, moving subtly within him. Matthew focused on breathing through the worst of it as Gilbert kept a slow pace, the throbbing pain subsiding to more manageable and ignorable levels. Especially when Matthew realized how impacted all of his nerves were, his very special places laid bare to be mercilessly driven into by the press of Gilbert's massive cock alone, friction and motion added bonuses.

Despite some minor protests from his body, Matthew pressed back into the Prussian's strokes, establishing a rhythm that left both men panting. Gilbert swiveled his hips as he thrust, making room where there was none inside of Matthew's body, the circling motion becoming easier and easier with each cycle as lube and natural juices did their jobs well.

Matthew came squealing in surprise for a second time, his climax catching him off guard it was so abrupt. It's intensity left him weak and shaking, the Prussian's death grip on his hips the only thing keeping the Canadian in an upright position. Gilbert grunted as the walls encasing his dick clenched and spasmed all around his buried erection. He deemed it safe enough to release one hand from Matthew's swaying body so that he could grasp the base of his own cock, stifling his orgasm with a painful grip. Gilbert pulled out fully a moment later and let Matthew collapse.

Ignoring the puddles of cum he now lay in, Matthew tried to focus on something besides how empty he felt. He was hazily aware that Gilbert was moving around behind him and that the Prussian had not finished. Matthew shivered as something cold was pressed to his stretched hole, the Canadian recognizing the feel of the bullet shaped vibrator being pushing into him. Strong arms looped underneath his belly long enough to shove a couple of pillows in the space between his body and the bed. Matthew had mustered up just about enough energy to start asking questions when Gilbert leaned over him to press himself back fully into Matthew in one smooth motion…with the vibrator still inside.

"W-what are you doing?! That's too much! T-take it out!", Matthew choked out, flailing beneath the Prussian who was in a half crouch over him keeping Matthew in place. Gilbert answered with the flick of a switch.

Matthew's world shattered.

Wave after wave of humming vibration was backed by powerful thrusts that sent Matthew flying over the edge and jerked back again with every movement. All he could do was lie there and take it.

"I really am being fucking into the mattress.", was a stray thought of Matthew's that somehow worked its way out from the sea of white colored pleasure that Matthew was currently drowning in.

A question floated down to Matthew and waited patiently on his brain for him to respond. "Do you still want me to take it out?", Gilbert had asked, the words translated eventually by what was left of Matthew's cognizance. Matthew didn't know how long ago the question had been proposed or how the Prussian had even managed to ask it. Matthew tried to come up with an answer but kept losing the thread of it to waves of pure bliss sweeping through his body's skin, like electrical currents that tingled in a circuit. Considering the minute risk that the Prussian might actually stop without an answer, Matthew babble out something he hoped was a happy negative. Gilbert's unusual chuckle alleviated any thoughts of that happening though.

Matthew was aware that he was humping the pillows now, his cock forced back into full hardness with an almost painful vengeance. Not wanting to have Gilbert do all the work, Matthew weakly went with the motions that rocked his body, pressing back when he could and clenching down when he couldn't.

The last proved to be a little too much for the Prussian, Gilbert coming with a growl, the depth of which resounded in Matthew's bones. The Canadian shivered from it as a new heat filled him from deep within. Matthew shrieked with new life as Gilbert continued to press his softening hardness in as he tilted Matthew's hips sharply toward him. His thumb was not idle either, turning the vibrator on its highest setting.

Floundering uselessly against the mattress and the Prussian that still held him down, Matthew came almost blindly, the backs of his eyelids filling with a blizzard of whiteness that quickly spiraled into a rainbow streaked blackness. Matthew barely kept himself from passing out from the power of his orgasm, the effort leaving him boneless in exhaustion and panting desperately for air. Matthew grunted as Gilbert landed on top on him, spent and just as useless. They lay like that until the room stopped spinning and they could both breathe again without gasping.

When he felt he was able to, Gilbert rolled them both to the other side of the bed so that the couple were not laying in their own cooling seed. Matthew ended up laying on top of the Prussian, leaning up awkwardly on his elbows against a scarred muscular chest to look down at his pale lover. "W-wow.", Matthew stammered out. He admitted to himself that it wasn't the smoothest pillow talk but he felt he had to say something and 'thank you' just seemed too trite and insufficient.

"Kesese. Bitte.", Gilbert chuckled, answering as if Matthew had. Feeling his blush return, the Canadian laid his head against the Prussian's shoulder, trying to think of something suave to say next but kept coming up blank.

"Aw…..um…..what now?", Matthew asked, cringing at how awkward it sounded. Gilbert heard it too, wincing beneath him from the general badness of it.

"So much for the afterglow. You really suck at enjoying the moment.", Gilbert grumbled. His arms encircled Matthew at his waist though, keeping the Canadian near as he tried to escape in embarrassment. "Quit trying to run off.". Gilbert waited until Matthew settled himself back down, hiding his overly warm face into the crook of Gilbert' neck. Gilbert stroked Matthew's back, following the line of his spine for guidance to ease the Canadian's discomfort before speaking again.

"But to answer your question, I want to take a nap with you first and then you can feed me some more pancakes.", Gilbert decided, his hand moving up off of Matthew's spine to start caressing the base of his hairline, twirling little stray curls he found there in between his thin fingers. "And then I'll go to work.".

Matthew was relieved that he was already hiding his face, his look of disappointment kept to himself. Of course Gilbert was leaving. They had both gotten what they had wanted and now it was time to return to reality. Gilbert would go back to his life, job, whatever, and forget all about Matthew just like everyone else did. Probably at the most if Matthew was lucky, he would be remembered as maybe a happy afterthought. There was no reason they would ever have to see each other again.

It took a moment for Matthew to realize that Gilbert was still talking, the Prussian repeating his unanswered question as he shook Matthew's shoulder to get his attention. "Hey, do you want to go out after I get off of work or what?", Gilbert asked, feeling slightly confused. He wasn't sure if the Canadian had fallen asleep on him or was thinking of reasons not to go out with him. To Gilbert's relief, Matthew stirred back to life, leaning up to looked down at him with glassy eyes. Gilbert wondered briefly if he had been too rough with the Canadian and if someone needed a backrub.

"You….want to…..go out with…..me?", Matthew said slowly, biting his bottom lip in old habit. White fingertips reached up gently to save the strip of silken flesh from being tortured.

"Nein, I am talking to the other naked guy in bed with me that I just fucked.", Gilbert rolled his eyes, "Ja, you. I have the weirdest feeling that you'll put out.".

Matthew's eyes took on a wavering, watery finish to them as he gazed down at the Prussian. Gilbert prayed to the gods of awesome that Matthew would not start crying. It was better than the 'being murdered with a hockey stick' option but not by much. "You are such an asshole. Who says that?", Matthew laughed instead, much to Gilbert relief even as he sniffled.

"I'm not hearing a 'nein' though.", Gilbert grinned, reaching up to brush stray locks of strawberry blonde hair out of Matthew's face, enjoying how the Canadian still blushed so delicately under his touch. Matthew answered his question with a soft kiss, the chaste touch of plush flesh on silken pale that rasped softly as he drew back. It was a sweet defining moment, one that Gilbert and Matthew would have liked to build upon as they looked into each other's eye to find a connection there that others would spend a lifetime looking for and never find.

So of course, both of their cells rang at the same time in that precious rare moment.

Matthew winced as he heard 3 Doors Down's 'Kryptonite' played melancholy from somewhere on the floor while Gilbert glared at Florence and the Machine's 'Kiss with a Fist' kicking it up a notch from the edge of the bed, the Prussian's phone peeking out from the confines of his jean's back pocket.

"That's Alfred. I have to take it.", Matthew cringed apologetically as he climbed off of Gilbert to find his cell.

"That's Arthur, probably whining for me to cover his shift tonight.", Gilbert sighed, rolling across the bed to retrieve his phone.

"You have shit timing you know that.", Gilbert snarled into the phone, digging through the rest of his pockets to find his smokes and lighter. "I am calling in the favor you owe me.", Arthur snapped back, ignoring the comment to get straight to the point.

"Dude, where the fuck is my car!?", was the greeting Matthew got from his brother upon answering. "Maybe you shouldn't loan your only mode of transportation to strange people then.", Matthew said coolly, "Or give them our house keys and tell them to spend the night. Or not call to tell me that said stranger is staying over.".

"Don't get pissy with me just because you bottomed last night and that fat fuck threw out your back.", Gilbert griped into the phone at his dance partner, lighting the cigarette. "Bloody hell, will you do it or not? I'm in a right state here.", Arthur huffed.

"Oh shit, that's right! Is Gil still alive or did you kill him with politeness?", Alfred snickered. "Alfred F. Jones. That is not even remotely funny considering the amount of firearms we have in the house and you know it.", Matthew growled into the phone.

"Ja, ja, ja. Man down. I get it. Don't worry princess, I'll cover your ass tonight. I'll pair up with Ant or Frannie or both. Hell, we haven't done a Bad Touch Trio act in a while so it should be kinda fun. If Feliks doesn't like it, I'll just go tell him to go huff some more paint.", Gilbert said, looking around the room for something to serve as an ashtray. Matthew paused in his own conversion to reach under the bed, handing the Prussian a heavy ceramic stylized leaf shaped ashtray that smelled sweetly familiar. Gilbert arched a silver brow at Matthew who didn't strike him as the type. The Canadian shrugged back, looking mildly sheepish in return. "You're so lucky to have awesome me as coworker and roommate.", Gilbert made his final point with a flourish of ash. "I'm chuffed to bits over it.", Arthur said dryly before ending the phone call.

"Of course, Gilbert is still alive, you idiot. That's not the point!", Matthew ranted into the phone, making the Prussian take interest in the twin's conversation. "But Matttttiiiieeeee!", Alfred whined in defense. Matthew could tell by the tone used that Alfred was trying to work his patented puppy dog eyes magic over the phone, "Gil's a great guy and I knew you would be fine with it! You know…..eventually.".

Matthew used his free hand to face palm, wondering not for the first time if the two of them were even related. Alfred would have continued but Matthew cut him off, having lost interest in the entire conversation.

"So are you fine with it?", Gilbert asked, having heard the overly loud American clear enough. He tried to make the question as casual sounding as possible, not hinting toward the line of tension that now ran hotly through his body. Matthew's smile melting it away as soon as it began though, the expression soft, a little shy, but radiant like dawn breaking over the shadowed blackness of a mountain's ridge. Even more so, it was sincere.

"Yeah…..I'm more than fine with it."


End file.
